Beating the Odds
by jay357
Summary: Morrigan hates the skinny boy, Leliana thinks the witch is an utter bitch. ... T U :* "This chapter alone has successfully reaffirmed my love of Morrigan x Leliana shipping." "Got chills!" "Imma reread the whole story again." "Very deep. Very interesting." "This story gives me so many feels... :3" "You left me without any words..." "You and your damn cliff hangers. Bloody tease."
1. Chapter 1

**Archiving: Only with the permission of the author.**

******Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all… nothing is mine, don't sue.**

She was sitting quite comfortably on the small dirty patch of earth next to the strange little hole in the back of the camp. From this place she could watch her comrades going about their business perfectly...

Oghren was telling his war stories to a pack of half-drunk emissaries, spilling his ale while showing off his favourite type of attack. Leliana couldn't help but smile as his heavy body stumbled about, swinging his axe from left to right in a blaze of drunken fury.

"...ripped open their chests... ...bloody hell!"

A snicker escaped her lips. He was the funniest little man she'd ever seen. Times were tough, and she appreciated every excuse to smile once in a while.

Next to the drunken dwarfs' tent she could see Kaala, leaning heavily against the hard fabric of the makeshift housing. The lithe elf was obviously a goner. Her small hands still clasped the bottle of wine she had bought in Denerim earlier that day, but her head hung low and her mouth was wide open, obviously snoring.

Zevran and Alistair seemed to be discussing swords and wet stones, by the look of it, and Wynne obviously had already gone to bed. Though she couldn't understand how in the Maker's name the old woman could sleep, listening to all that ruckus.

It was chaotic, it was loud, and it was full of life. In the glow of the fading fire everything seemed so beautiful, magical even. Shadows danced on her companions' faces, making them look so soft and tender, betraying the fact that every single one of them was tired as hell, weary from the daily fighting.

But evenings like these made it all worth it. Once, she would've loved to join them, be in the center of it all. But lately... lately everything seemed to have changed. She couldn't exactly say when it happened, or how it had happened, but... things were different now. Her feelings were different now. Especially after what had happened with Marjolaine today, after killing her...

Her smile faded away and her arms went up to hug herself. She would never really get over that. Marjolaine was the first and only person she had loved utterly and deeply. Who she trusted without giving it a second thought. Her trust had been betrayed, her heart had been broken. Leliana pulled her legs up and hugged them, resting her head on her knees. She could feel the wet streaks running down her cheeks, but she didn't care to wipe them away. They would cease falling at some point. But right now, her body was shaking in agony, remembering times when everything had been different, remembering how happy she had once been. Forcing her to admit, even, that she hadn't been happy in a long, long time. But one day, she would learn to live with the pain, just as all the others before her had done. Alistair was a baby boy, but somehow even he was strong enough to overcome great pain. She had never known Duncan, but it was clear to her that he had been very dear to Alistair and that the Warden was hurting more than he let on.

Every single one of her companions had suffered, had lost someone, had lost their home, their livelihood, even to some extent their life. Who was she to complain about the loss of a long-gone lover?

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and started scratching her red scalp. Her body felt like she had been beaten, which was a quite accurate feeling, remembering the amount of heavy blows that had been directed at her this afternoon. She carefully got up, trying not to tense up too much, knowing it would only sting more. She was in pain, and on top of that tired, crying always made her tired, but she knew with all the burping and laughing of Oghren, she wouldn't be able to sleep, anyway.

So she slowly went to her tent, grabbed a few linens and walked to the main entrance of the camp. She patted Kahless on her way out, revelling in the feeling of his warm dog skin beneath her trembling fingers. His intelligent eyes burnt into hers, and she almost felt like he knew exactly what was going on in her mind. The Mabari's muscular body pressed against hers, offering her a kind of comfort she had never had before. She knelt down and embraced him, clinging to him desperately. Leliana ran her fingers through his supple coat, enjoying the feeling of a living creature in her arms, so soft, so warm... She gave him a tender kiss on his head and plucked softly on his ears, while he just sat there, looking at her.

"You are a handsome dog. And so understanding."

With that, she left him to chew on his bones and headed off to the little stream that was running behind the fallen tree. Maybe taking a bath would help her settle down for the night...

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews! I had a really hard time with Morrigan's POV, so it took me quite some time for the update. Sorry for that.**

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"Go away!"  
"What in the Maker's name..."  
"Must you disturb me even now?!" Morrigan had just about had it. The "skinny boy" had come to annoy her again. Certainly the bard would bother her with senseless discussions about her precious Maker and the chantry. Why could they all not just leave her alone? Once, just this once! But no, it was obviously not enough that the Warden always disturbed her at night, wanted to talk and discuss matters that were personal. Now the boy had come to blemish even her nightly bath.  
"I wish to be alone. Your tales and questions are not welcome here." Morrigan slipped further into the water, pushing herself deeper into the darkness that surrounded the magical fire coming from her staff. Her eyes didn't leave the other woman for a second, who just stood there, watching her. Having the skinny bard watch her made her more uncomfortable than she dared admitting even to herself. So the witch tried her best to not let her feelings show. What was the rogue doing here? Had she come here on purpose, knowing that she was taking a bath? Maybe she had seen her walking off in the dark and decided to annoy her with her religious views again. Surely her arrival here was not happenstance.

Morrigan didn't know what to make of the whole situation. She *did* want the Orlesian to leave, but at the same time she was aware of the fact that she shouldn't care. As long as the boy kept her mouth shut.  
"I asked you to *go away*!" But instead of giving her a well deserved answer, all the tall woman did was drop some linens on the tree trunk next to the stream.  
"No." For a second Morrigan was at a loss for words. 'Twas infuriating how the rogue always defied her.  
"What is your meaning? You cannot truly believe that I will stay here and let you watch me while I bathe."

"Then go. I don't care." With that, the bard started shedding her clothes and slipped into the water, stark naked. Morrigan tried her hardest not to stare. But as obnoxious as the boy sometimes was, her body was a sight to behold.  
"Do you not? Do you wish for me to light a fire on top of your precious little head?" At that, the bard grimaced and disappeared completely, surfacing with her red hair tousled and covering her face.  
"Set me on fire if you wish. Or make me into a pretty ice sculpture, I most certainly don't care."  
"Aaaah, self-loathing, 'tis? Suit yourself." She turned her back to the young woman and tried to find the relaxed state she had been in earlier. But that proved hard, now that the bard was merely a few feet away. She didn't like the thought of blue eyes staring at her body. Not even if 'twas just her back. Bardish eyes should never lay eyes on her. Not after the way they had been ogling her breasts the other day. That had made her most uncomfortable, and she would not let herself be stared at again.

Her pale hand glided over the surface of the water, using her flaming weapons spell to enchant it and fill it with magical heat. A part of her had to smile at the fact that the warmth would never reach the bard, who was splashing about downstream. She would leave quickly enough. The Orlesian might be strong-willed, but she would certainly not stay in the cold water for long. When the heat started surrounding her, she finally let go and relaxed. Her arms encircled the rock in front of her, letting her body sway with the current.

After a while she couldn't help herself. She made herself turn around and look for the bard. And there she was, scrubbing at her skin with small twigs, cleaning the blood and dirt off. Morrigan could see the flushed skin of the bard, the red streaks where she had rubbed too hard and, most of all, the goosebumps covering her whole body. For an instant, her eyes slipped down to erect nipples, but she quickly forced her eyes off of them. Yes, the young woman was definitely cold, but there was none of her earlier amusement left, when she saw the forlorn look on the bard's face. She swallowed the sarcastic comment she had been about to make and simply watched the rogue wash herself. Surely her skin hurt, it was already covered with bruises and scrapes, and the relentless scrubbing would only make it worse. The witch had the sudden urge to say something, to make the young woman stop hurting herself, but she could not think of the right words, so when she finally spoke, 'twas utter nonsense.  
"'Tis cold, is it not?" Of course it was cold. She forced herself not to frown at her own words, that would only give the bard pleasure.

Blue eyes met her's, when the boy looked her in the eyes.  
"Yes." Morrigan could see the shiver that ran through the skinny body, the red flush of skin that had been exposed to the cold for too long.  
"Do not think anything of it, but if you wish, you can join me. I have warmed the water with a spell." She didn't know what possessed her to make that offer, but when the girl shyly came closer, it felt like it had been the right thing to do.

"Thank you." 'Twas a tiny whisper, but she had heard it. Even appreciated it. Normally she would enjoy lashing out at someone who was so obviously hurting, but something made her hold back her snide remarks. Maybe 'twas the red around the other woman's eyes. Had she cried? She had just killed her former lover, after all. Knowing the sentimental bard, she had probably still had feelings for the freakish woman who had done her no good.  
"You should not cry. Be glad 'tis over. She will not hurt you now." Fearful eyes looked at her, and the witch could see new tears entering the orbs. Her comment had most certainly not been the right thing to say, though she had only meant well. Maybe she should try again...  
"Your tears are misplaced here, I tell you. That woman deserved to die." The lithe form next to her slumped down and grasped onto a rock for support when heavy crying shook her whole body. Morrigan did not know what to do. She had never been in a situation such as this one. People were not something she knew very much about, after living with only her mother for so long. Still, she wanted to comfort the bard. Strangely enough.

"You will be glad 'tis over one day." Her body started inching closer of it's own accord, and suddenly she found herself right next to the boy, her hand extended, as if to stroke the battered body. Her hand trembled when she pulled it back into the saftety of her comfort zone. But the shaking that went through the rogue soon made her regret her decision, so she reached out and put a shivering hand onto a slumping form. The reaction she got was instantaneous, when thin arms embraced her and a wet head pressed itself into her abdomen, just beneath her breasts. For a second she was furious and wanted to rip the boy's head off. But that feeling was soon replaced by a strange sense of a protective instinct she had never felt before. Except for in battle...

"Do not cry. I... Everything will be alright." 'Twas a lie, of course, but what was she supposed to say? She sighed inaudibly and put her hand on the head in front of her, stroking it gently. 'Twas folly, but it made her feel strangely pleased when the arms around her held on even tighter.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	3. Chapter 3

When the witch made it unmistakably clear that she didn't want her close, Leliana could feel tears entering the corners of her eyes. She didn't know why it hurt so badly that the raven-haired woman didn't want her here, but it did. It felt like a knife entering her heart, twisting cruelly. So she slipped into the water, concealing her true feelings with cold droplets of fresh water. When she emerged, the other woman was looking at her strangely and the bard couldn't help but say what had secretely been on her mind most of the afternoon:

"Set me on fire if you wish. Or make me into a pretty ice sculpture, I most certainly don't care." She didn't want it to sound so self-pitying, but as usual, she just couldn't handle the aloofness of the witch. The cruel words, hidden in sarcastic remarks, the underlying contempt, the look of pity and annoyance she was always giving her...

Leliana stood in the freezing cold stream for a while, watching the older woman trying to relax, feeling a slight pang of guilt at the thought of her being the disturbance that kept the Witch of the Wilds from finding a state of mental and physical relaxation. But when she saw her heating the water around herself, she pushed her guilt back down. This woman was proud and self-absorbed and wouldn't even offer her a place beside her in the warmth of her spell. The bard swallowed hard and grasped a few tiny twigs from the ground a few feet away. Then she started scrubbing herself, mindful of the scratches and bruises the fight with Marjolaine had left on her body.

She tried concentrating on washing the dirt off, but her eyes trailed back to watch the other woman of their own accord. When her eyes wandered over the pale skin of it's somewhat cruel owner, her hands grasped the twigs harder, twisting them, scratching her delicate skin with the rough ends. She hadn't intended to draw blood, but her body seemed to have a mind of it's own. Dirt and skin and blood mixed together, when she scrubbed off the scab from older wounds. The pain that shot through her body when the wounds reopened excited her, sent a pleasant shiver over her whole body. Goosebumps started covering her skin and she was not sure whether it was because of the cold or because of the pain. One thing she was sure of, though: It was good to feel pain.

Killing Marjolaine had used up a lot of her energy reserves, physical as well as mental ones. Kaala had not noticed. The elf rarely felt sorry for the people she killed, because she usually had a very good reason. And so she expected the others to be as comfortable with getting rid of their adversaries as she was. Kahless had it easy. He was a dog. He did as Kaala bid him. And he liked it, they all knew that. The Mabari was a ferocious killer, and one of the best protectors Leliana and Morrigan could hope for when they were taken into battle. Morrigan. The bard rarely used the witch's name, but when she did, she usually came to regret it. Such were her conversations with the witch, that Leliana prefered being alone afterwards. Not to ponder over what had been said, but to collect herself again after being hurt by a snide remark. That was the rule, anyway.

Leliana sighed. There was a burning pain in her eyes because of all the crying. She had tried supressing it several times, but whenever her eyes fell upon pale skin and dark hair, the tears would rise again. There was no reason for her to feel a stabbing pain in her heart whenever she looked upon the hauntingly beautiful witch. But it was there. For a moment the Orlesian was beyond confused, until her hands started rubbing at her skin in earnest. She pressed her eyes closed, refusing to give them the pleasure of taking in sights she did not want to see. What she had felt just now couldn't be real. She had only just killed her former lover today, it was simply not possible to feel this stab of pain in this moment of time. While looking at the witch. No. No no no.

"'Tis cold, is it not?" The bard could feel a strange tingle below her skin, as if someone was watching her. When she finally forced her eyes to open again, they involuntarily locked with the bright yellow orbs just a few feet away. A shiver ran down her spine and Leliana tried hard to ignore it. Why did the witch have such an effect on her? The Orlesian had never been modest when it concerned her body, but now she had to resist the urge to cover herself. As she finally answered the somewhat pointless question, her voice was barely more than a squeak:

"Yes."

"Do not think anything of it, but if you wish, you can join me. I have warmed the water with a spell." No one had ever taught her what would be an acceptable expression of gratitude for an occasion as out of the ordinary as right now. Leliana didn't know what had possessed the witch to offer her a place next to her in the heated water, but she would surely not decline. Her heart may be skipping beats and beats, but the thought of warm water on her skin was more than she could resist. She thanked the older woman in what was hardly more than a whisper and joined her in the space between the rocks.

Being close to Morrigan was not something Leliana was used to. She had certainly made no secret of the fact that she thought the witch a beautiful creature. But it had always been playful comments, which the other woman had soon shut down. Now that she was aware of the strange attraction she was feeling, collecting her thoughts proved harder than usual. The witch would notice. She had a gift of seeing right into her, Leliana had noticed. A somber voice made her look up and when she could see the hint of pity in the eyes in front of her, new tears entered her vision. The fire-lit surroundings became blurry and surreal. Words seemed to flood over her and wash her away. A light touch on her back sent a new wave of goosebumps over her form and for once, Leliana let go of everything and submerged herself in the comfort of another body.

"Do not cry. I... Everything will be alright." Soft hands started stroking her head, playing with her hair... And for the first time in years, Leliana felt safe. Maybe she had to thank Marjolaine's death for that, as well, but the gentle touches she was receiving seemed to make everything alright again. She pulled Morrigan's body closer, locking her arms behind the witch's back, afraid she might let go. For years she had lived in fear of being found. Of being caught. But all that seemed to wash away with the current and Leliana felt strangely clean all of a sudden. A sigh escaped her lips, heartfelt and liberating. Once she closed her eyes, she could hear the strong heartbeat beating beneath fair skin and she found pleasure in the sound reverberating inside of her.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Looking at Morrigan pics makes me drool. Just saying.**  
**On a sidenote: Thank you, my loyal computer for deleting yet another half chapter before I could save it. Thank you. You are awesome. You are really making me hate this story. Thanks for that. ARGH.**

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Morrigan rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. Her body craved sleep and relaxation, quiet and peace. She rolled her eyes and massaged her forehead. 'Twas becoming increasingly difficult to fight off sleep, but the stupid boy was still clinging to her like a madwoman.

Normally she would not waste much time on taking a bath, but the Orlesian had made for an unexpected and somewhat unwanted distraction. Her inner clock told her that they had been here for a while now, and she could feel her spells wearing her down. Not only did she have to keep the water warm, the flame that was so diligently burning on top of her staff did drain a lot of energy, as well. 'Twas not surprising her eyelids were becoming heavier by the moment. Having the skinny boy clinging to her was not making things easier, however. Morrigan forced herself to stay calm and after imagining several painful deaths for the younger woman, she had regained at least some of her ususal composure.

She was not sure how she would get out of this situation without hurting the bard at least physically. The lithe body that clung to her was covered with water, but the witch's topside was exposed to the cold air mercilessly. She was starting to feel the cold, even though her magic had kept her from freezing so far. Slender arms had at one point locked behind her back and the witch did not know what to make of it. Bonding and helping friends in need was Kaala's prerogative. She wanted no part in it. But still, here she was, offering something akin to comfort to a woman she hardly knew, and frankly, did not care to know.

No matter the effect on her relationship with the boy, she would have to get out of the water and dry her hair, or else there might be an ice sculpture, after all. For once, she was at a loss for words. 'Twas not often that she considered her words before they came out of her mouth, but tonight, the bard had touched something inside of her that made her think before talking. She was not entirely sure whether that was a good thing, as yet. So far she had been able to keep her distance, as well in camp as in their travels. The frequent discussions the younger woman forced upon her were a nice distraction on missions, although she would never admit to that, but she had never cared whether she hurt the bard with her words or not.

"The cold is starting to bother me. I will have to get out of the water. I suggest you do the same." At first there was no reaction at all, but then she could feel eyelashes flutter against her abdomen. It was an odd sensation, one she had never felt before. A pleasant shudder ran through her body and settled between her legs, which made her gasp involuntarily. Blasted damnation! She took a few shallow breaths and tried concentrating on the matter at hand. Which proved hard enough without the light scraping of nails on her back.  
"Off you go. I want to dry myself off now." She rolled her eyes and pushed the lithe body away from her. Gently. She did not want the young woman to make another scene, after all. When she turned to exit the stream, she could see the bard shaking heavily. Bloodshot eyes were darting around aimlessly and archer's hands were trembling while they tried covering a swollen face. She had to force herself not to act on her first instinct... To hit the woman. Hard. Instead, she grasped one of the trembling hands and pulled the rogue to her feet.

No word was spoken when the two of them stepped out of the water, and Morrigan was glad about it. Once out of the cold wet stream, the witch released the spell that had warmed the water and the sudden rush of mana returning to her sent a wave of heat through her whole body. She grabbed for her staff and diminished the flame to a small torchlike size, using the returning energy to dry off her moist body. A low sigh escaped her lips when she let her free hand glide over her arms and up to collarbone, exploring the shallow depths just beneath her throat. The light prickle sent shivers down her spine and for a few moments she actually enjoyed herself. But when a second sigh escaped her lips, she became keenly aware of the fact that she was not alone.

Withstanding the temptation to wheel around and cover herself, she cleared her throat and picked up her flimsy clothes instead. As she slipped into the all too cold fabric, she made sure not to turn her backside to the bard while bending over. Then she risked a glance over at the other woman and her heart almost stopped. Morrigan was not a sentimental person, nor was she one who would not exploit every weakness that she could find. But when she saw the drenched figure of the Orlesian sitting on the nearby log, linens carelessly thrown over a slender body, a part of her yearned for a closer look. And maybe a touch. The witch knew that this evening things had changed between the two of them, there was no point in denying it. She felt an uncommon attraction for the other woman, that much was certain. Lying to herself would not make it go away, so she might as well admit it. Her thoughts were only her own, after all. Nothing would come of it, she would make sure of that, but the memory of a naked bard would prove useful one day. Or night.

The older woman watched the rogue sitting in silence for a while, until she couldn't handle the vulnerability that was displayed to her anymore. When she walked over to stand in front of her, the wet thing didn't move a muscle. The witch had no experience with crying women whatsoever. Or people, for that matter. So she decided to do the only thing she was good at: Magic. She pulled the last of her mana out of the staff and grabbed for one of the still trembling hands, letting the energy flow into the other body. A surprised bard looked at her when she felt moist skin drying and wet hair fighting off the cold water.

"Morrigan... I..." Tears welled up in blue eyes and Morrigan couldn't help the frown that was forming on her face. Why did the bard have to ruin a perfectly good moment by talking and crying? Exasperated, she rolled her eyes several times, before she finally looked into the orbs that were desperately trying to lock onto hers.  
"Yes." Making it easy for the young one was certainly not her intention. Surely the boy would leave her alone now that she was dry. Go to bed, most likely.

Red hair waved through the air when the rogue shook her head for no apparent reason. Morrigan successfully resisted the urge to comment on it. Fighting the scowl that was forming on her face was another thing, however. So she let it drop into place, eyes blazing. Quivering lips seemed at a loss for words and the witch decided she'd had enough of the crying woman for one night. She would make sure that this was not something the bard would talk about in the future. Neither to her nor to anyone else. The folly of this awkward evening would be forgotten once the sun came up again.  
"I just wanted to..."  
"Save your sentimental gratitude for someone else, because I care not." With that, Morrigan waved her staff in the general direction of the camp and let the flame burn again.

"Best you go now, or would you rather stay here in the dark?" Her words had the desired effect, she could clearly see tears in the corners of the bard's eyes, and although she felt a pang of guilt, she knew there was no other way to keep their relationship the way it was until today. Mocking the young woman was more to her liking than offering her emotional support. She would have to remind herself of that once a similar situation would arise.

Not waiting for the hurt woman to follow her, Morrigan strutted towards the camp, never looking behind. Once she was inside, though, she casually glanced for the other woman, making sure she had been able to keep up. When the whereabouts of the bard were confirmed, she went to her part of the camp, letting out an annoyed sigh on her way over there. She had planned for a bath in the quiet of the evening, instead she had found herself cornered by her least favourite member of the group... The witch shook her head. No need to go over this evening again. It had been made clear that such a thing would not occur again, surely the bard had unterstood that. She dropped the staff in the corner and slipped out of her clothes, sitting onto the cot in her underwear. Her hands rubbed her face, trying to get rid of the tension she was still feeling. But to no avail. Shaking her head unbelievingly, Morrgan slipped under her covers, knowing full well that sleep was still hours away, even though she was tired.

As she was drifting off, she became aware of the quiet. It seemed like the rest of the group had turned in, as well. Even Oghren could not be heard... He had probably passed out snoring somewhere... A soft noise made her open her eyes again, as if waiting for something. She stared into the darkness of the night for some time until she convinced herself that it had been an animal she had heard. Her eyes closed of their own accord and her body relaxed again. Until she heard a soft voice say her name.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: This is not a filler. Just so you know. Well, okay, it might be. A tiny little one. But the next Leliana chapter is gonna be longer, I promise. I just needed the next part to be in Morrigan's POV.**  
**Reviews are always appreciated. So if you've got something to say, out with it! :D**

**This is the mix I created for this story. It's mainly folk and... whatnot. Just check it out :)**  
**Remember to replace the DOT with a real .**  
**8tracksDOTcom/jay357/beating-the-odds**

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Morrigan's gait had a certain swagger to it, which was nice to look at. Leliana was exhausted, but her eyes denied her the wish of staying on the path in front of her. Instead, they focused on the black skirt swaying gently in the wind. A shaky breath escaped her lips when she let the events of this evening pass through her mind again. It was just too much. Maybe she would have been better off listening to the witch, when she had told her to leave. But her stubborn mind had refused to yield and so she had made a fool out of herself. Admittedly, when it came to talking with the older woman, she usually did. Most of their conversations were an excuse for the witch to make fun of her.

The moment the witch entered the camp, she seemed to relax. Leliana could see it in her shoulders, tight knots gave way to a somewhat rigid yet casual posture. The bard stopped dead in her tracks, when she walked past Kahless. His ears were twitching in his sleep and it was the cutest thing she had seen in a long time. A tiny smile tucked at her lips and Leliana stretched out her hand to ruffle his fur. It was soft and inviting, and she would have loved to curl up beside him, resting her head on his muscular chest. Shaking her head to rid herself of that idea, Leliana remembered something that had so far escaped her notice.

Her clothes... Were still down at the stream. Looking down at herself, she couldn't believe her stupidity. A quick glance made sure she was alone in camp. At least the only one awake. Even the witch had already reached her part of the camp, presumably even turned in for the night. Although she was aware that no one could see her, she still grabbed the linens tighter, covering her most private body parts carefully. The half wet, half dry linens were the only thing that covered her, but strangely enough, she didn't feel cold. It probably had something to do with the witch transferring mana into her, Leliana remembered. She sighed loudly, not knowing what to do. She could either leave her clothes near the stream and dress in one of her other garments tomorrow, or she could go back real quick and retrieve them so no one could ask unwelcome questions.

She decided on the latter and went back the way she had come.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Cliffhanger resolved ;)**

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"'Tis you. What is it now?" She refused to rub her eyes in front of the red haired woman. She might think her too tired to argue.

"Mooooooorrigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aan..." Of course. The woman was inebriated again. That had become a regular thing with her and Oghren, and the witch did not like it one bit. Now was not the first time the elf had woken her in the middle of the night, trying to force her into a discussion. The witch had tried talking her into leaving several times already, but it had all been to no avail. Once drunk, logic was no match for the small elven woman.

"Yes. Sleep on the hide, if you must. I will go to sleep now." She climbed back into her cot, slipped the thick furs over her body and pretended to sleep. Until a clumsy finger tried poking her nose and missed several times, eliciting giggling noises from it's owner.

"Warden. Why do you bother me so? Go to sleep!" The last bit had come out louder than she intended, and she hoped that none of the others had heard it. Most of all not the bard. She did not want the bard to know that the elf came to sleep here quite regularly. Why she even bothered with that track of thought was beyond her, but she knew that she did not care for the boy to find a drunken Warden sleeping beside her. The sentimental thing might get the wrong idea and see ghosts where there were none to see. Not that it mattered, of course.

"Cooooooome, Morrigaaaan... Pleeeeeeeeeeease pleease?" Her eyes rolled up, exposing the white of them to her elven friend. She breathed in several times, trying to calm herself. This day had taken all her patience already, there was nothing left to spare for the annoying woman prancing around in her shelter.  
"Tell me this instant what it is you want, you drunken fool! Or I will make you tell me, be sure of that!" The rogue stopped dancing and looked at her expectantly. Whatever was to come next, it was sure to either amuse her or make her want to snap the other woman's neck, she was fairly sure of it.

"Lelilililali... Lilly... Anna's gone." She was wide awake in an instant.  
"What is your meaning? Gone? Gone where?"  
"Nehehe, looksy a spiiideeeeeeeeeeeeer." With that, the rogue picked up a fluff of fur and started playing with it. Morrigan was ready to kill her.  
"Damned Warden, get up!" Her hands grasped the surprised elf by the neck, pulling the light body to it's feet. The woman emitted a strange sound between a shriek and a squeal and before Morrigan could do anything about it, the rogue had shoved the fluff into her mouth, chewing quickly.  
"Issssss... my food! My spi-hi-hi-hi-der!" To say the witch was prepared to offer the Warden a painful death would be an understatement. It would not only be painful, but also very, very, very slow. Agonisingly slow. She would make sure of it.

"You have chosen the wrong night to try my patience, small woman. I shall make you regret your drinking." She shoved the elf to the floor, picked up her staff and poked her in the chest. Loud protesting and clumsy attempts to thrust the staff aside were met by a burst of energy that sent the rogue to sleep. Peaceful snoring replaced drunken babbling, and Morrigan took a deep breath, forcing herself not to burn the whole camp to the ground. Why should she even care that the boy was gone? 'Twas not her concern, the young woman would be perfectly capable to take care of herself. Surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to go far. And if she did, the witch hoped that her death would be quick. That was the exact amount of friendliness she could manage after today. Wish the bard a quick death. 'Twas a fate she would not wish upon many. The young rogue should be thankful.

Morrigan stared at the Warden and shook her head. This woman would one day be the death of herself. Particularly if she kept up the nightly visits. One day the witch might burn her alive, for no other reason than for being rudely awakened. She stifled a yawn and slipped one of the hides over her shoulder. She would not be gone for long, but 'twas best to stay warm. Her bare feet found the way to the front of the camp easily, all the while enjoying the soft grass beneath her.

When she reached the dog, she was surprised not to find the bard with him. But she shrugged it off and went to look into the bard's tent, which was still open. Of course there was no bard. Morrigan's annoyance seemed to climb to new levels when she realised that the boy probably wasn't inside the camp at this time. Once this horrible night was over, she would stay away from the troubling woman, but for now, she had to find the elusive redhead.

Lighting a small fire inside her hand, she walked towards the entrance of the camp yet again, surmising that the other woman had probably gone back to the stream. For whatever nonexistent reason that may be.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Okay, it's late now. Chapter finished! Yes, this is for you :p You know who you are :)**  
**Some of the quotes are from the game itself. Not mine.**

**For those who haven't tried it yet... Listen to this:**  
**Remember to replace the DOT with a real .**  
**8tracksDOTcom/jay357/beating-the-odds**

* * *

Leliana was more than exhausted. Finding her way in the darkness was hard, her eyes kept falling shut of their own accord and her feet couldn't seem to remember the simple left-right-left rule. Yawning and tired munching were interrupted by constant sighing that she couldn't seem to suppress. Tonight wasn't going according to plan. At all. She had counted on the witch being reclusive and leaving her alone. But when she had offered her a place in the warm water, everything had gone downhill. Never mind touching the older woman, losing her composure and crying like Alistair was much worse. The Witch of the Wilds would not forget that. She would make Leliana regret this night for the rest of her life, the bard was fairly certain of that.

When the rogue reached the part of the stream they all usually bathed in, even the light of the moon didn't offer much help in discerning her surroundings. She could make out the log and a dark pile of... something that was supposed to be her clothes. Leliana stumbled towards it, clumsily falling over roots and rocks until she finally reached the log and came to rest in front of it in a heap of flesh and linens. Grunting, she tried slipping into the now very cold clothes, which caused goosebumps to form on her delicate skin.

She could feel herself drifting off in the middle of getting dressed, and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake, her mental and physical exhaustion combined were more than a match for her battered will. Hey eyelids were getting heavier by the moment and her limbs seemed to have minds of their own. Heavy arms came to rest on a rough log and long legs pulled into the warmth between her body and the ground. The way her body came to rest over the log was surprisingly comfortable and before Leliana's mind succumbed to sleep, her lips curled into a tiny little smile.

Her dreams were littered with magical flames and shadows that resembled a certain witch. Leliana was floating in a fiery sea, soft touches fluttering over her naked body. Words were washing over her like waves of ice cold water.  
"...not welcome here ... self-loathing ... your perceptive powers know no bounds ... disturb me even now ... are insane ... deserved to die ... off you go ... bother me ... 'tis over ... dismal failure, best forgotten ... your precious little head ... loneliness would be preferred..."

Ambivalent feelings were filling her up, confusing her sleeping mind. A part of her enjoyed the gentle fiery touches, the sarcastic remarks, but there was also another part of her that slipped away from her, hiding in a dark corner, crying in the stillness of a watery grave.

It was then, that Leliana awoke. Drowsy eyes tried making out the environment. At first, she didn't understand where she was, until her hand felt the rough bark beneath her fingers. The log. She had fallen asleep in the middle of nowhere, with no camp to protect her. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the bard grabbed for the remaining fabrics strewn across the ground, when she heard a low grumble. Shell-shocked, she froze with her hand midway in the air. Her eyes slowly wandered around in the direction of the sound, coming to rest on what was likely the largest bear she had ever seen. It's yellow eyes were menacingly bright in the glow of the moon and the lithe bard swallowed hard. She had not summoned this bear. Gulping, she reached out with her mind, trying to establish a connection with the wild animal. Normally she would only summon animals if there were foes nearby, but not having that luxury right now, she decided it was all she could do to keep the majestic animal out of the camp.

The intelligent eyes of the bear seemed to study her and even though the thought itself seemed strange to her, the look the animal gave her was one of true interest. Breathing shallowly, Leliana slowly extended her hand towards the huge creature. A wet nose greeted her cold hand, and an enormous head pressed itself into her palm, blatantly pleading for her to ruffle the dense fur. Smiling hesitantly, she obliged and let her hand wander over the supple hair, flexing her fingers to gently scratch the skin beneath. Circular eyes closed in what seemed to be pleasure and a soft tongue peeked out from beneath animal lips. The bard let herself drop onto the ground, her buttocks hitting the floor with an audible thud. She scratched the back of her head tiredly, thinking about her options. Somehow the way back to camp stretched out in her imagination and became a distance she was not prepared to travel.

Leaving the bear here might have been an option before she had stroked it, but now the animal was fixated on her and there was little she could do about it. Leliana shrugged off all reasoning and simply let her body loose, gliding down onto the forest ground. She was tired.

Her head slumped forward, hitting the ground hard. A low groan escaped her lips shortly before soft fur tickled her nose. A satisfied grin spread over her face, when she felt the large animal snuggle close, offering her the warmth of it's body. The bard hid her face in the softness of the fur, breathing in the distinct smell of bear that she knew so well. It had been a long time since she had summoned a creature. Let alone a bear. Usually Kaala would ask her for a wolf...

The moment she woke up, she immediately knew something was different. Her back was still pressed against the log, saving what heat it could by hiding behind it. But where her face had snuggled into soft fur, there remained nothing but chilly morning air. The rogue opened her eyes, fully expecting to be alone. What she found instead, made her gasp aloud and cover her mouth in shock.

The witch was lying right in front of her, astonishingly beautiful and relaxed in her sleep. At first Leliana had a hard time understanding, but when she noticed the amount of bear fur scattered over the two of them, it dawned on her. Somehow the witch had found her here and decided to keep her safe in her own, somewhat incomprehensible way. Nevertheless, the bard was thankful and she couldn't help the hand that reached out to touch the peaceful face of the older woman. Morrigan's skin was as warm as it had been the day before. Her mana seemingly kept her warm even during sleep. Leliana was fascinated by the magic of the witch, though she would never admit to it. She knew that the witch thought of them all as lesser beings. Even Wynne, who was a mage, but had to live by the rules of the Chantry, which was more than the dark haired woman would ever abide.

Proud she might be, and cruel when it suited her, but there was also an unexpected tenderness in the Witch of the Wilds, that Leliana wanted to explore. She knew that Morrigan was not an evil person, but seeing through the wall of sarcasm and snide remarks was hard sometimes. Mainly because she usually was at the receiving end of the hurtful words. But still, she had come to respect the mage enormously. In fact she really liked the woman. Not only because of her beauty, but because of the softness that she kept so carefully hidden from the world. The bard had seen through that act early on and had tried to bond with the bitter witch. It had proven more than a challenge to show the lithe woman that she, too, was a human being worth her time. And her display the day before did not help her case.

Leliana sighed inaudibly and pushed a stray strand of hair out of a pale face. Such tenderness would not be welcome were the witch awake. But she couldn't resist touching the fair woman. Too long had she lived in fear of the future, in fear of the past... Killing Marjolaine had freed her in more than one way, it seemed.

It was still early and she wasn't sure how deep the mage's sleep was, but seeing as the witch had come here of her own free will last night, Leliana decided to risk the other woman's wrath just this once. She carefully pushed herself away from the log and snuggled close enough so she could rest her head on an inviting armpit. She didn't dare throw her arm around the beautiful woman, but resting right next to her, looking onto her face whenever she opened her eyes was more than enough for her. Morrigan would probably put a spell on her once she found her almost on top of her, but the thought actually made Leliana smile. She would endure whatever the witch might throw at her after waking up.

After last night, everything felt different. Spiteful and resentful Morrigan had made the mistake of letting her softer side show, and Leliana would make sure it happened again. But first she would have to get out of this situation alive.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	8. Chapter 8

When Morrigan felt a soft breeze sweeping over the tender skin of her neck, she was wide awake in an instant. She didn't dare open her eyes, for fear of what she might find. Her body sent signals to her brain nonetheless, things she could feel, which was not to her benefit, as she would soon find out. A warm and slender body was pushing her to the ground, effectively trapping her in place. The breeze she had felt was sure to be a certain woman's breath and the gentle grip on her hip felt like one of the bard's hands, holding onto her. The witch became acutely aware of the fact that she was not clothed at all and her mind started spinning. As she tentatively moved her right arm, she found it securely wrapped around the sleeping form next to her. She jerked it away, trying to ignore the sensation of loss as she angrily thrust her hand into the earth beneath.

A second breeze tickled her neck and her eyes opened and closed several times, trying to adjust to the bright daylight. She could not remember which effeminate part of her had prompted her to care where the bard had gone, or to go after her, but she decided that whichever part of her had caused her to do so, was certain to be obliterated. First she would have to clear her head, though. Lying so close to the clean smell of the young woman next to her did nothing to help her sleep-ridden mind to concentrate. Ignoring the mumbling body, Morrigan pushed it away and got up in one quick movement. Looking up at the sky she could tell it was almost midday, and even the Warden would be awake by now.

The bard was starting to wake up and as Morrigan was in no mood to discuss this -whatever this was- with the sentimental redhead, she did the only thing she could think of to prevent further discussion: She grabbed the young woman's hand and sent her into a deep sleep that would not last long. But long enough to go back to camp without the bard noticing. Groaning audibly, she shifted back into a bear again, ignoring the increasing guilt she was feeling.

The mage fell into an easy trot, making quick work of the way back to camp. Once there, she was greeted by an excited Kahless, who seemed to enjoy her bear-shape more every day. She had never engaged in any of his plays as of yet, but the creature did not seem to mind. He was barking and jumping around wildly, trying to get her to play along. She cared not for such trifles, but she did want the Mabari to leave her alone, so she got up onto her hind legs and let out a loud roar that would waken even the rogue down at the stream. But instead of the desired effect, Kahless playfully lunged at her, trying to grab her throat. He would no doubt try to pull her down, but a quick smack on the back taught him elsewise. This witch was no ordinary bear, he would learn quickly enough. Kahless got up from his spot on the ground and started yelping and running around her in circles. Maybe he would not learn, after all. Morrigan decided to ignore the beast and made her way through the camp, accompanied by the intrigued babbling of Sandal and the constant barking of the filthy mongrel.

"What did you do to meeeeee?" The small elf was clasping one of the timbers of Morrigan's shelter, leaning onto it limply. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Why did the annoying rogue not leave her alone? She did have other people to talk to, other people to bother. Surely 'twas some stupid game of hers, trying to drive her mad.

Part of her took pleasure in the daunted look on Kaala's features when the witch stood on her hind legs and looked her deep in the eyes. 'Twas enjoyable, irritating the elf like this. The bear's lips parted, showing a set of slanted teeth, grinning awkwardly. But Kaala was a quick-witted little thing, and when Morrigan saw the elf's eyes squinting and the lips pull themselves into a simpering smile, all enjoyment was lost to her. She let herself drop to the ground and walked to the part of her shelter that provided the most cover from wanton looks. Then she let her mana go free and shed her fur along with her excess flesh, which both dissipated into nothing but thin air. Stretching and moaning, she flexed her human body, disregarding the curious looks she was getting from the grinning elf. Kahless however, did seem to lose interest when she changed back into her human form. He let out a disappointed yelp and left, hunting after imaginary prey.

"To answer your earlier question: I sent you to sleep, stupid elf. 'Tis obvious, no?"

"Yup. Would you care to tell me how I ...?" Tiny hands were rubbing a sweaty forehead, trying to get trid of the spell's aftereffects. The witch rarely used magic on her companions, but sometimes the end justified the means. She took no pleasure in being able to control the others to some extent, but she did not hesitate to use her powers to protect herself. Or her well-deserved peace and quiet.

"I do not." Morrigan stepped into her clothes and then started fastening the straps of her armwrap.

"Figures."

"What is it you want? 'Tis of great import, I hope?"

"No, actually I literally just woke up and wanted to know what's happened."

The witch suppressed a sigh and looked at the Warden expectantly. The elf was a nerve-racking creature, to be sure. Pulling on her pants and skirt, trying to find the right position, Morrigan hardly paid attention to the rogue who was pacing the ground in front of her fire.

"I wasn't THAT drunk, you know! I can remember ... things." The mage let out a pff-sound and sent an unbelieving look in Kaala's direction. Of course the elf noticed.

"I do! I do remember. Yes. I totally remember." The wild gesturing and would-be seriousness of the woman made Morrigan laugh out loud. Moments later her face returned to it's usual stony expression and her eyes dared the elf to tell someone, anyone, about this.

"I won't! Nooooooooooo, trust me. I'm... Yeah. Leaving. I'm leaving... I think." Questioning eyes were studying her face, coming close enought that Morrigan might call it kissing range, but then the green orbs winked at her and the elf turned around to leave.

"Am I really leaving?"

"You are." The elf turned towards her and stuck out her tongue, pulling down one of her eyelids. For a moment the witch wondered whether all elves were such childish creatures.

Morrigan let her head drop onto her fist and sat down by the fire, warming herself. They were still waiting for Alistair to recover from wounds he had sustained a few days earlier, so they would probably stay here for a few days more. The witch let out a sigh, thinking about the day before. Her behaviour confused her. She had never cared for the bard, nor had she given the other woman any reason to care for her. But her recent experiences led her to believe that the younger woman wasn't all the same to her. Some small and immaterial part of her had come to like the redhead more than she dared to admit. And it would simply not do.

Just then a hunched figure entered the camp and was greeted by Kahless, who was in need of a new playing partner. The bard bent down, patted his head and left him standing there, when she went to hide in her tent. Morrigan was oddly curious as to how much the young woman remembered and as to how she had come to lay almost on top of her... But disturbing her in her tent was not an option. Nor did it interest her that much. 'Twas merely a passing, fleeing trail of thought, it meant nothing.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	9. Chapter 9

The moment she awoke, she knew she was alone. Of course. Why would the witch stay with her after all? Or maybe it had all just been a dream... Leliana's dreams often revolved around the mage these days, which was strangely arousing and frightening at the same time. On the one hand Morrigan was a very beautiful, appealing woman, but on the other hand she was a horrible and sometimes cruel dialogue partner. Still, the bard found her most intriguing and fascinating... But no more!

Leliana knew she was lying to herself, but after how things had ended with Marjolaine, she was afraid of how things would turn out with Morrigan, should she decide to pursue her. Which, as a matter of fact, she was not even sure the witch would even let her try. Shaking her head, the bard sat up, leaning against the log. By the look of it, it was almost midday already, and she should be getting back to camp. She did not want to, though. The thought of seeing the witch made her skin crawl and her heart flutter. How could she look the witch in the eye with those distracting thoughts bothering her?

She picked up a little of the stray bear fur laying on the ground and played with it for a while. It felt surprisingly soft between her fingers, so opposite of what the witch portrayed herself as. Sighing, she got up and wiped away a single tear. She would not arrive in camp crying, lest the witch would think her weak. Again. It was bad enough she had broken down the day before, no need to add to the embarrassment. Leliana picked up her linens, dressed herself properly and made for camp.

Kahless was the first to notice her arrival, his tail wiggled excitedly, and his barking could probably even be heard by the witch, who was, as always, hiding away from the others. Leliana stood still for a while, just watching the lone figure sitting by the fire. She could not fight the pain she was feeling, much less the immense need that had awoken inside of her. A need for her to hold the raven-haired beauty close. But she would not run after her, no she would not. The proud witch would have to come to her of her own accord. Leliana frowned. In a way the Witch of the Wilds had already come to her. Last night, when she had fallen asleep on the log, she had been awakened by a bear that had surely been the witch. Of course it had been the witch. The yellow eyes, the cold look... And even so, the bard was afraid she might have dreamt that part. But when her fingers remembered the soft skin of the woman, Leliana could feel herself smile and sigh. It had been the witch. For sure.

Leliana continued on her path to the tent, and when she arrived, she slipped inside, hiding from the outside world. Just this once, she wanted to be alone. Sitting down, she opened her hand, revealing what she had so carefully hidden from the dog and other curious eyes. Strands of bear fur fell onto her mat and for a while she just sat there, looking at it as if it might provide answers. It would not, of course.

She simply did not know what to do. The witch was a hard one to figure out. Most of the sarcasm and cruelty were simply a self-defence mechanism, but what defined Morrigan as a person was hard to tell sometimes. The witch had held her when she cried, cared for her, even. Had come to her in the middle of the night, and stayed there. Although she had left at one point, Leliana knew that it did say more about her as a person that she had stayed at all.

It was confusing. Maybe the mage was simply playing with her, had decided she would make an interesting subject to study human behaviour. Or Morrigan herself was confused and did not know what to do about ... this. That was actually the most probable of possibilities. The witch was not accustomed to human behaviour, and as such she would most likely not know what to do with what had happened, except to ignore it.

Scratching her forehead hard, the bard thought about how she had cried in the naked woman's arms and how she had snuggled close to the similarly naked form of her in the same night. It had felt wonderful and right. The witch had pulled the bard close in her sleep and let her hand stay on the redhead's smaller back. Leliana remembered the touch vividly. A sigh escaped her lips. She could be sitting here all day, pondering over what had happened, or she could confront the witch, which might lead to the rogue being seriously injured. Or worse. The bard emitted a 'tsk' sound and decided to stop thinking for a while. It would prove hard, with thoughts of the intricate mage only ever just beneath the surface of her consciousness, but no one had ever said it would be easy. And so far, her life hadn't been.

Outside, she found Alistair sitting by the fire, trying to cook, while Wynne stood nearby, shaking her head unbelievingly. Alistair's attempts at cooking were usually met with well-meant advice and cheerful banter, depending on who was trying to help him. This time Wynne had taken up the challenge to educate the Warden on cooking, but by the looks of it, her efforts didn't prove very successful. Leliana smiled a little awkwardly and joined Zevran in the front of the camp, deciding that it was a good a time as any to sharpen her daggers.

"Beautiful lady, what is the occasion?" His easy charme and infectious smile made her laugh despite her black mood. The small elf was always fun to be around, and Leliana enjoyed learning about traps and poisons from the talented assassin. Conversing with him made her forget the pain she was feeling. The blond had a way of talking about mundane things that mesmerized her, drew her in and made her feel comfortable. The two of them often talked about their pasts, and Zevran had been one of only two people she had told about Marjolaine.

Leliana's head went up when a memory sprang into her mind. Morrigan telling her that everything would be alright. That Marjolaine couldn't hurt her anymore. Of course, that she had wanted to kill her had been obvious. But had the witch picked up on the rogue's insinuations? Leliana couldn't help but feel a little insecure. What if the Warden or Zevran had told the witch about ... her past? The rogue couldn't help but put down the wetstone she had used and glance over at the back part of the camp, where a lone figure was sitting, reading from scrolls.

"I know that look, Leliana."

"Mh."

"What has she done this time?" The bard was looking at the assasin, trying to hide the guilty look on her face.

"What? Who?"

Zevran gave her one of his signature looks that she knew all too well. It told her that he didn't believe one word she had just said.

"You know who I mean." His smart eyes were looking at her kindly, while his lips were pulled up into a smirk. It was such an odd view that Leliana graced the elf with a lopsided grin.

"I just... You don't know what you're talking about, Zevran."

"I have had many a lover, did you forget? This body could tell you countless stories of pleasure and this man knows matters of the heart when he sees them." His tan hand reached for hers, pulling her closer.

"Do not fear, Leliana. It is only natural. Our bodies do not ache in vain for the solace of another being. Comfort must be granted, unison must be the ultimate goal, even if only for one night."

"Zev..."

"No, listen. I am a master of deception, so are you. Yet I see you before me as I would an open book. You long for her to be close, for her touch. You must confront her or you will regret it your entire life. Trust me on this, young bard. Life is never simple, but sometimes we can make it more complex than it need be."

Her head fell onto his shoulder, and tears were streaming down her face. Yet again. But instead of the wailing and sobbing when Morrigan had held her, the tears fell down quietly. Her emotional dams had broken and for the first time in a long time it felt good to cry. Every single tear liberated her a little more. And even though she couldn't put her finger on why she was crying, she felt herself becoming lighter. All the pain Marjolaine had caused, all the pain even Morrigan had caused, it was slowly leaving her, relieving her of the gigantic rock she had carried inside of her for too long.

"Do you feel better?" Leliana nodded and wrapped her arm around the short elf, holding him close. It felt good to have a friend.

"Hey Zevran! You're lame-ass advances finally working? Good on you!" Of course, Kaala being ... Kaala effectively ruined the moment.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: That's what happens when you bury your feelings... Right, witchiiiiiie?! ...**

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She desperately wanted to kill the Warden. 'Twas not bad enough the elf had to accept every menial request she could find on the boards, no, the annoying little bastard had to do it fast as well. It was all the witch could do to keep up with the running rogue. Her clothes were certainly not made for running, nor was her human body. As a wolf or horse, she enjoyed longer runs or sprints immensely, but as a human she preferred walking. Also, having the redheaded bard running behind her did not help matters, either. She just knew the young woman would be staring at her 'features' as the bard liked to say. The mage practically had to force herself not to look over her shoulder, checking on the chattering rogue.

Arriving in the Market District of Denerim, Morrigan slowed her pace deliberately, hoping the quick bard would run past her. And she did. The witch had to suppress a smile at that, forcing her face to show her usual indifference. When blue eyes darted towards her, she picked imaginary pieces of dirt off her staff, pretending not to notice the hurt on the other woman's face. She had done a well enough job of avoiding the redhead so far, but the glances the other woman threw her way were distracting nonetheless. Focusing her attention on her hands, she noticed they were shaking slightly and hoped the still staring bard would not dare notice. She could just feel the other woman's eyes on her, but she decided not to call her on it.

In the meantime the Warden was running over the Market Place with Kahless on her heels, picking pockets and chasing after cats, as well as children, like a madwoman. Morrigan refused to smile at the seemingly hilarious sight. The childish little Dalish thing did enjoy the city far too much for her taste. She rather preferred the woods and the distance it put between her and most humans. Morrigan clicked her tongue and shifted her weight onto her staff, hoping the elf would run out of steam sooner rather than later.

Her patience payed off the moment she heard the excited voice of the small woman:  
"Hey, I think I found the guy!" Kaala trotted towards the hooded figure, all the while playing with her daggers. Morrigan found the cheery mood of the Warden increasingly irritating, and she couldn't help but hope the elf would trip over a stone...  
"I... We need to talk." Stifling a growl, the witch turned towards the human rogue with a glare that would have intimidated the grittiest of soldiers, but the bard apparently refused to notice.  
"I wanted to wait, b..."  
"So you should." The witch was in no mood to talk to the young woman, much less talk to her while all kinds of people might be listening. 'Twas not that she cared about strangers listening in, but who knew what her other comrades were doing at the moment...

"But I..."  
"I see the Warden found the courier, we should make sure she does not make a mess of things again." With that, Morrigan left the bard standing there, gaping. Just as she walked up behind the elf, the hooded courier left, vanishing in the shadows.  
"Have you..."  
"Oh, come on! It was _one_ time, let it go." The lithe elf danced about, disregarding the sceptic look thrown her way.  
"I will not. You kicked the woman in the shin, and as a result I had plates thrown at me. Plates!"  
"She was whining! I can't _stand_ whining humans!"  
"You may do as you please, but not when I'm the one suffering the consequences!"  
"Oh come on, what's wrong, witchiiiiiiiiiiiiiie? Why so moody?" The elf poked and pinched her, clearly trying to force a reaction.

"I am not... _moody_. I have merely had enough of your childish antics." The witch heard the light footfalls of Leliana approaching, and part of her hoped the bard would be stupid enough to try and talk to her again. She had a rather strong desire to set someone on fire right now, and the bard would surely prove to be a decent victim.  
"Kaala, I have some things I need to take care of. I'll... I'll see you back at the camp." Morrigan didn't even have time to be surprised, the bard left as soon as she had spat out the words. The Orlesian rarely left the party once they were afoot, and the mage did not want to speculate why she had left them right this moment. Although she could surmise it had something to do with her being the usual distanced conversational partner. Surely, turning her back on the young woman had not failed to leave its mark on her.  
"Aaaaaaalright. Looks like you're stuck with me, witchie." The Warden grinned at her like a crazy person, but Morrigan refused to see the joke in what had just happened.

"Where are the other couriers? We might as well split up, I've had enough of running about Denerim." When Kaala only looked at her perplexed, the witch rolled her eyes and added:  
"You may even take the dog with you." When the elven rogue started bouncing happily, flames erupted beneath her feet. Blinking several times, Morrigan was surprised to find that her staff was aflame, pointing at the Warden's feet.  
"Hey! What did I do _now_?!" Pouting, the smaller woman puffed herself up, trying to appear taller than she was.  
"It is best you shut your mouth now, it seems my patience has come to an end. Give me that!" Morrigan grabbed the paper the Warden was holding, glanced at it and thrust it back at the elf's chest.  
"There, you may go to your people in the Alienage and to that filthy brothel that is called the Pearl. I will find the other two couriers." With that, Morrigan rushed off, hoping the annoying little beast would not run after her, like she usually did. She had barely walked three paces when she almost tripped over the happily panting mongrel dog.  
"And take the damn beast with you!"

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: For the gorgeousness that is Isabela, I went with the look she has in DA2. Just so you know.  
Oh, and there's a tiny little Buffy reference in there, maybe you'll notice ;)  
**

**Here is some music to accompany you ;)**  
**Remember to replace the DOT with a real .**  
**8tracksDOTcom/jay357/beating-the-odds**

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She had just about had enough for today. The witch refused to talk to her? _Fine_. She could handle that. But the blatancy with which Morrigan ignored her, that stung. So she had left before she could say or do anything stupid. Now, on her way to nowhere, Leliana sighed. Denerim wasn't her favourite place to be right now, but where else was she supposed to go? Going back to camp would only result in Wynne asking her where the look on her face came from. And probably Zevran telling her she should lighten up a little. Although she liked talking to the old woman and the lively elf, she was in no mood to endure their friendliness at the moment. She would need something ... different.

Leliana quickened her steps when she realised where she was going. She needed a little distraction, someone who wouldn't care about her mood and probe her with questions. Visiting Isabela was as good as anything she could do. And the Pearl was not far off, offering drinks and other distractions. Just what she needed to take her mind off the witch. Which she desperately needed to do. She had been looking at Morrigan's behind all day, and it hadn't helped her mood one bit. Her thoughts had drifted off several times, while her mind had created images that tortured her even further. Remembering the soft hands of the witch on her head and skin had felt so good, and Leliana ached for the aloof mage to touch her again. Or to at least acknowledge her presense, which the black-haired woman had refused to do all day. Some part of her knew that the Witch of the Wilds enjoyed playing with her feelings, but she also knew that at least a small part of the witch cared for her. Or she wouldn't have stayed the night.

When she arrived at the Pearl, Isabela was sitting in front of it, kicking a seeminlgy unconscious dwarf.  
"Hey, my sweet thing. What brings you here all alone?" Isabela's intelligent eyes fixed on hers, her smile more a knowing smirk than anything else.  
"I need a drink."  
"Do you now? And here I thought you had reconsidered my offer." A blush crept up Leliana's face, warming her cheeks in a familiar fashion.  
"I... No." She walked past the Rivaini, opening the heavy wooden door slightly, hearing the laughter that erupted from inside the building. Her frown softened and she stopped in her tracks.  
"Do you want to join me for a drink?" She didn't know what possessed her to ask the dualist for her company, but she realized that she liked the idea of talking and drinking with the illustrious woman. A cheeky grin usually graced her features, and her vibrant eyes always twinkled with mischief. Leliana didn't get an answer, though. Instead of one, the brunette bent down, fumbled for the money bag of the snoring dwarf and pulled out a few silvers. The bard smiled when she observed the unusual behaviour; the pirate captain was obviously trying not to be too greedy.

"This will get you a nice prostitute, too!" Isabela got up and kicked the door open, pulling a speechless bard after her. She just didn't know what to say. The Rivaini had a way of leaving her at a loss for words, and this was not the first time.  
"Come on, sweetling, that old scut won't miss the silver, let's have some fun with it!" She shoved Leliana down at her usual table in the corner, ordering drinks for the both of them. The hard stuff, the rogue noticed. Of course. The duelist would probably want her lying under the table sooner rather than later. And the fact was, that she did not mind. Getting drunk beyond reason might lighten her mood or at least take her mind off things. Or none of the above. Usually it only made matters worse. But when you're about to drink, you drink, no matter the outcome.

"Sooo, have you two played _'shiver me timbers'_ yet?" Leliana bit her lip and stared at the brunette wide-eyed. Apparently all the inhabitants of Thedas were in on a joke she had yet to understand.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about..." The pirate just grinned mockingly and raised her eyebrow disbelievingly. Then she downed her glass in one gulp and motioned for the bard to do the same. So the redhead drank the bitter liquor quickly, before the other woman could remark on that as well.  
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." After filling their empty glasses, Isabela leant back, making herself comfortable, showing off her buxom chest in an obvious attempt to catch the bard's attention. Leliana had always found the pirate woman attractive, but she was still glad that she hadn't joined the Warden and her in bed. The elf still joked about it to the day, and refused to let the matter go. Somehow, calling her a prude Chantry sister made the elven woman giggle every single time. And, admittedly, the bard had to laugh about it, too.

At the time she hadn't known why she had declined the offer of sleeping with two beautiful women, but as she remembered the words the witch had uttered when the Warden had accepted the offer, a frown formed on her face.  
_Rinse off the stench after you are done rolling around in the gutter..._  
The witch hadn't tried to hide her disdain, and Leliana remembered the words, as well as the look upon the face of the older woman. She had been forced to look at the disgruntled mage for a long time after that, while they were waiting for the Warden to come back. Drink had followed drink had followed drink. And the mage had just sat there and played with her staff, lighting flames and freezing candles.

Her mind drifted back to the present, noticing that everything was strangely blurred. How many drinks had she had?  
"Oh, you're back."  
"Hmpf." Leliana swallowed awkwardly, trying to focus on the blurry white form in front of her. The Rivaini laughed heartily, downing yet another glass of the dark liquid.  
"You don't drink much, do you?"  
"Nooo..." Bobbing her head several times, the bard tried to focus on the bottle in the middle of the table, watching her hand sneak closer and closer, but missing every single time, until she finally knocked the bottle over. Isabela caught the falling liquor swiftly, chuckling as she did.  
"Mh. I see. Sweetling, you're drunk."

"Ho-ow much..."  
"Let's not confuse your mind with numbers. Let's just say I'm impressed, little Chantry girl."  
"Mh. Gimme that." Her wobbly hand reached for the bottle again, this time getting a hold and pulling it towards her. Deciding it would be too hard to try and pour the booze into her glass, she lifted the bottle to her lips, hitting her teeth in the process.  
"Ouch."  
"Sweetling ... Oh never mind." The duelist got up, patted her on the shoulder and walked towards the bar, wiggling her hips as she went.

"ISABELA! Whoooo-hooo!" The voice of the Warden was so loud, it penetrated even the drunken stupor of the bard. Her head snapped up in a sudden rush of clarity. She didn't want the elf to see her like this, so she got up, trying to reach one of the back rooms so she could hide. But that proved harder than she had anticipated, the floor was moving and shaking, and the chair seemed to have a strange hold on her unusually heavy body.  
"Mmmh." Talking to the chair would not help her now. She had to get out of this room, before the notoriously curious rogue found her...

"Take care of some things, huh?" The slender face of the Dalish elf entered her sight, green eyes sparkling with delight. Leliana wanted to sink into the ground. But her hand obviously did not mind the intrusion, lifting the bottle to her lips yet again. After gulping down the last of the bitter liquid, she muttered a few insults, before her head hit the table with a distinct clonk.  
"I think she's a goner." Small elven hands ruffled her hair and warm lips kissed her neck cheekily.  
"No kidding."

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Every time I even think about writing another pairing, I get stuck with this one.**

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After combing through several back alleys in the darker parts of Denerim, Morrigan finally found the couriers and thanked them kindly. Well... Kindly enough. Remembering the plate-throwing incident from a few weeks before, Morrigan snorted angrily. Her patience had been wearing thin for some time after that, and she might have set some peasant's cart on fire when he refused to answer their questions, but she hadn't hurt anyone. Still, she had gotten into a heated argument with the small Warden, which she was not looking forward to doing again. At least this time the Warden would have no reason to complain about her scaring someone off.

Rubbing her forehead tiredly, the witch assessed her surroundings, not sure where she wanted to go now. She actually regretted sending the elf into the Alienage and the Pearl alone, leaving her with the tedious task of rummaging through the various backstreets in search of the darned couriers. Another thing that bothered her was the fact that the Warden would probably stay in the Pearl for more than the courier. She couldn't be bothered with a drunken fool this evening, much less with a drunken horny fool. Morrigan knew Kaala visited Isabela on a regular basis when they camped close to Denerim, but somehow the elf never returned fully satisfied. The witch wasn't sure whether it had something to do with a lack of skill on Isabela's part or whether it was a curious case of elven insatiability.

Sighing heavily, the mage directed her steps toward the brothel, intent on finding the Warden and bringing her back before she had the time to utterly waste herself. Not that Morrigan cared about the elf. She cared about her nightly peace and quiet, that was all.

With the Pearl only a few alleys away, it didn't take her long to arrive at her destination. She would have recognised the rank smell of the gutter anywhere. And even if she didn't have a nose, she would never forget the look of the tottering men and women wandering the street. 'Twas most confusing that these louts were paying to hump each other. They were rolling around in the gutter anyhow, why would they pay for it? Morrigan would never understand city people. A bunch of addle-brained miscreants, doomed to leave nothing behind but a bloody spot on the ground. A malicious laugh escaped her lips, unbidden, and some of the dumb-witted creatures dared look at her a little too closely. She spooked them quick enough, one glare with her yellow eyes and the humans minded their own business again.

Frowning at the seemingly unconscious dwarf right next to the brothel's entrance, the mage pushed the heavy oaken door open and stepped into the reeky inside. When she took in her surroundings, she couldn't believe her eyes. Right at the end of the hall was a crush of people, cheering loudly, spilling mead and other liquids into every possible direction. Of course there was only one reason for the commotion. In the middle of it all sat none other than the Warden, downing one drink after the other. Rivaled only by Isabela, who sat across from her, keeping up easily. Judging by the concentrated frown on the Dalish rogue's face, it was too late to take her back to camp without having to carry her half the way. Annoyance swept over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in a sea of irritation. Resisting to snarl audibly, Morrigan swallowed her anger and just stood there, watching the drinking orgy unfurl.

Isabela was more than capable of holding her alcohol, the Warden... not so much. Morrigan had come to know Kaala's drinking habits better than she would have liked. Mainly because nine times out of ten the wasted thing ended up on her mattress, still holding the culprit in hand. One bottle of hard liquor would be enough to make her stumble and fall, sometimes it was even enough for her to pretend the blurriness of her environment was because she was wandering the Fade. As the mage remembered the sight of a drunk and scarcely dressed Warden stumbling through the camp, trying to fight off Desire Demons and Abominations with an empty bottle, she actually had to smile.

Shaking her head, her focus went back to the two stubborn women refusing to admit defeat to each other. The elf was barely keeping her head up, and she seemed to have a hard time connecting the glass with her lips. It was only a matter of time before the Warden's head would slump onto the table, but Morrigan had no notion of waiting for her. This time the Rivaini would be stuck with the Dalish woman, Morrigan would make sure of that.

Walking up towards the bar and the commotion, Morrigan noticed a very distinct whining coming from around the corner. Of course. The mongrel dog was here as well. Filthy beast. But at least the creature could walk on its own, so she had no excuse not to take it with her. Not this time, anyway.

Rounding the corner, the witch found the source of the whining crouching on the corner bench, head resting on the table; a familiar bard's head lying next to it. She rolled her eyes at the sight that greeted her and instinctively stepped a few steps back. She wasn't prepared to deal with the bard yet, not after her moronic decision to stay with the Orlesian after finding her at the stream. Some small, hidden part of her blamed the bear for her troubles; in some of her animal shapes she experienced a strange sense of protective instinct, yet up until the day before she had never acted upon it.

Motioning for the dog to get his head off the table, she finally closed the space between her and the bard, sitting down in front of her. She leant her staff against the table, instantly missing the comforting feeling of the wood beneath her fingertips. Her restless fingers started scratching the rough surface of the wooden table, while she thought about what she was doing here. Lost in thought, she just sat there for a while, biding her time.

When she found her hand buried in soft hair, fondling, she instantly stilled the moving motion, but did not draw her hand back. She let it rest there for a while, looking at the contrast between the light red hair and her pale skin. A warm feeling enveloped her when she looked at the bard, and she had the sudden urge to play with the braided part of her hair. But then a muffled sigh reached her ears and her hand jerked back of its own accord. The redheaded rogue began moving, lifting her head just slightly, squinting at the witch through heavy-lidded eyes.  
"Mmmm-mo-mo..."  
"Do not tempt me, skinny boy. My patience has come to an end." The bard's hand grabbed for hers clumsily, holding onto it even when she tried to pull it away.

When the shouting at the bar became even louder, Morrigan knew that the elf had finally lost the game. She could either pick up the bard and take her back to camp, or she could take the Warden. Grunting angrily, she got up and looked down onto the moving form of the Orlesian, desperately trying to ignore the knot in her chest when she thought about leaving her with Isabela.  
"Hey. Hey, apostate!" Biting her tongue, the witch turned around and sent the Rivaini a glare that would have frozen the damned lava in the Deep Roads. Of course, the duelist did not seem to notice. Or she just didn't care, who could tell.  
"Take her with you. She's done for, anyway." Isabela used her blue bandana to wipe some droplets of liquor from her dress, shaking her hair wildly as she did.

"Ah, so you will take care of the Warden? As you wish. But don't you dare let the drunkard leave before morning. I am in no mood to fight off any kind of lusty creature tonight."  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Captain Isabela will keep the dangerous nymph safely hidden away, don't worry. Joraaaaaaaaaaaaan!" The duelist walked towards the crowd, met up with a tower of a man and ordered him to carry the unconscious elven woman back towards the Siren's Call. Although the brunette's swagger was a little out of rhythm, Morrigan still stared after her, not surprised to see the other woman turn around and wink at her before she left.  
"Get up." The bard's eyes had been open for some time now, but the young woman had yet to move. Morrigan grabbed the chestpiece of her armor and tried pulling the limp body up, which led to the same result as her words had. Nothing happened. Of course.

The mage grabbed her staff, sent a minor bolt of lightning into the young redhead and hoped for the best. She was surprised to find the bard standing next to her, albeit shakily.  
"Hey..." The weak and scratchy voice of the bard made her smile for a moment, before she threw the rogue's arm over her shoulder and tried manouvering her towards the brothel's entrance. The lithe woman proved to be heavier than she had anticipated, and the dog running around her did not make it any easier. Morrigan sent him ahead with a wink of her staff, almost losing her balance as she did.

"Blasted damnation. All because of the stupid Warden! Tomorrow I will HAVE HER HEAD!"  
"Shhhh..."  
"Oh, shut your mouth, skinny boy. And try to walk straight for once!" Exiting the Pearl, Morrigan breathed in the foul stench of Denerim's backstreets, grunting when she realised how long it would take her to reach the camp now that she was burdened with an almost dead weight. She _really_wanted to set something on fire.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Thank you for all the kind reviews and favourites and watches :D You guys make me really happy!**

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A firm grip held onto her hip, with slender fingers pushing into the soft skin of her abdomen. Her feet and legs were unusually heavy and sluggish and when she opened her eyes, the world presented itself as a shady mix between the Fade and a dream. Which was actually the same ... now that she thought about it.

Leliana wanted to know where she was, but she couldn't stop the bobbing motion of her head, flopping up and down and sideways, allowing her shaky glances at the ground and sky, but none at the person holding her. She knew it had to be Morrigan, she could feel the soft leather of the mage's fingerless gloves on her abdomen, slightly scratching her tender skin. And the soft material of the other woman's top underneath the fingertips of her left hand. The bard knew she was heavily leaning onto the witch, forcing her to carry most of her weight.

Her tongue felt thick and numb when she tried to form words without success. All she managed were little grunts and groans, and she sounded pathetic even in her own ears.  
"...cam...so...ne"  
"Nature's fury, would you shut up, woman?!" The hand grabbed her side harder, pulling her flush against the other body. The world became darker and her consciousness drifted away...

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"Enchantment? Enchantment!"  
"No Enchantment!"  
"Enchantment!"  
"I do not need Enchantment, you bootless bastard of a dwarf! Go away!" Yelling. Morrigan's yelling. A smile formed on Leliana's face as she realised where she was.

"What? What are you grinning on about, skinny boy?" The witch was pacing by the fire, a good ways out of reach for the bard. Behind the angered mage ran a smiling Sandal, offering Enchantment every few steps.  
"Enchantment!"  
"May thunder strike you down you little vermin! Leave me be already!"  
"Just ... go play with ... Kahl...ess."  
"Sober, are we?"  
"Mmmmmh."  
"Enchantment!"

"This ends now!" Leliana watched Morrigan lift her staff and point it at the grinning clodpole. The enchanter just stood there and eyed the witch in an interested manner. If the bard hadn't been so sick to her stomach, she might have laughed. As it was, she merely rolled onto her belly, hoping the queasiness would subside. She saw the mage move her lips and shake her staff ... without success.

"Blasted damnation! May you die a painful death one day, lyrium-addled creature that you are!" Staring at the yelling mage wide-eyed, Leliana was almost afraid for Sandal's life. Until she witnessed the mad Witch of the Wilds unceremoniously dragging him away by his clothes.  
"Enchantment!"  
"Do not tempt me, foolish creature!" Morrigan dumped the still smiling dwarf right next to Bodahn's cart, and seemed to send a small quake through the cart itself, when she practically attacked it with her staff. Bodahn stuck his head out, when the witch literally stomped back towards the stunned bard, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What is it you are looking at? Do not anger me, I have had my patience tried _and_ taken!" Lifting her head proved to be a hard enough feat, but talking at the same time was a senseless endeavour.  
"... I ... mmh ... sick ..."  
"If you so much as _think_ about spilling your guts onto my blankets, I assure you, being friends with the Warden will _not _save you from my wrath!" Even in her inebriated state, Leliana knew that arguing with the witch would prove to be a huge mistake. So she just nodded; slightly.

"Magnificent. Go back to sleep or whatever it was that you were doing." Morrigan strutted off towards her fire again, sitting down in front of it, warming her hands. The bard wasn't sure whether she should be happy or sad to be in the mage's shelter. Obviously, the older woman had no intention of looking after her, much less sleep next to her again, and although she should not have expected such behaviour, it still hurt the Orlesian to think that the witch shunned her so. After finding out about the woman's softer side, it was hard to accept the coldness she had once been used to.

Sleeping was not an option, even though her mind was fog-ridden and confused; watching the beautiful witch sit by the fire was much more appealing. So Leliana watched. And as the mage's whole body slumped in itself, she hoped that the other woman was tired and would soon go to sleep. Here, next to her, covered by warm sheets.

But the witch did not come. She simply sat there, by the fire, throwing a log in it from time to time. The bard blinked tiredly. She would fall asleep soon, whether the woman decided to come or not. Staring at her, Leliana decided that risking the anger of the raven-haired mage would be better than falling asleep without trying. So she slowly got onto all fours and crept over to the fire, mindful to stay in the other woman's back. She didn't want her to yell at her before she had even done anything.

Arriving at her destination, she hesitantly put a hand on a bare shoulder, surprised by the sudden reaction she got.  
"Do not touch me!" As much as she was startled by the sudden outburst, Leliana was all the more taken by surprise when the mage didn't immediately rush off, but instead, only stood up, coming to a halt when she reached her full height.

The mage didn't move or say anthing after that, and some drunken part of the bard figured it would be okay to continue her advances. The suicidal part, most like.

Reaching out again, the Orlesian put a shaky hand onto a calf covered with robust cloth. When she didn't get a reaction, Leliana took it for a sign of acceptance. She inched forward, embracing the other woman's leg; snuggling close, when all the answer she got was a sigh escaping full lips. She did not dare say anything, for fear the witch might run off or do something even worse, so the bard just sat there, by the fire, holding onto leather pants and boots as if her life depended on it. Her left hand snuck around to grasp one of the many clasps that were hanging from the skirt-like cloth the mage wore. Trying not to talk required some determination, as her drunken mind was coming up with a hundred topics she could talk about. Her nimble fingers played with the clasp, twisting and turning it, while part of her hoped the mage would say something. Anything. The silence of it all was as confusing as it was deafening. She wished for the mage to break it, so she would not have to.

But she had no such luck, the formerly angry woman just stood there, hanging her head, looking into the fire. She didn't know how long they had been standing there, but at one point she felt all the muscles in the leg next to her go weak, and suddenly the tall woman crumpled, coming to rest almost on top of her. Morrigan's head came to rest on her arms and knees, hiding her face from Leliana efficiently.

Scooting over, the bard positioned herself behind the mage, ignoring the pang of fear inside of her at the prospect of angering the woman again. As her hand brushed the pale skin of Morrigan's back, she saw a shiver run through the lithe body, ending in a light shake of the mage's head. When she heard the witch take a shaky breath, Leliana leaned in, resting her head on barely clad shoulders, her legs coming to rest on either side of the mage. Slowly, she moved her hands, afraid the witch might still do something unexpected. When she met no resistance, she let her hands embrace the slender form of the Witch of the Wilds, holding her close without actually trapping her.

Listening for Morrigan to say something, anything, all she could make out were tiny sighs and once a few muttered words, too silent to understand.

Time seemed to stand still as she breathed in the unique scent that was Morrigan. Rich and oaky, like a soft breeze sweeping through deep dark woods. Like home. It was a scent that would be easiest described as _warm_, although that made little sense, even to her.

The leather and cloth the witch was clad in was surprisingly soft underneath her fingertips, and some maniacal part of her decided to explore it further. Travelling up and down the mage's arms, exploring the hard muscles of slim thighs and the hard leather straps that had always looked like belts to her. It was all so interesting, all so new, and her curiosity was still not satisfied.

"Stop touching me." This time there was hardly any menace in the woman's voice, no anger that would have forced Leliana to let go. Nothing of the sort. So the bard simply stopped moving, but held on close to the lithe frame in her arms. Talking would not do her much good, anyway. Her tongue still felt heavy and strange, and her lips had behaved better once, as well.

So she simply sat there, her arms circling the warm body and her hands itching to touch the intriguing witch, while her ears picked up the constant chatter of Sandal, talking to the dog.

"Enchantment!"

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Rewrote part of Chapter 13, adding little bits and pieces. Nothing major, though. Some phrases just didn't feel right.**

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She was possessed. A demon had taken her over, 'twas a certainty. The hot trobbing that went through her body could not be her own. Much less the feebleness that seemed to have replaced her wrath. The familiar anger she was so used to had vanished into nothingness as a light touch had met her shoulder. The strange emotions that had taken over had confused and scared her, more than the thought of dying without achieving something great. She had been forced to lash out, for she did not want to seem weak. She was an independent woman, she did not need pity, nor did she need companionship, and she certainly didn't want either when coming from the bard.

But as much as her mouth had listened to her commands, her body had still betrayed her, the mangy traitor. Shivers and sighs had given her away, even as she had tried to hide the sudden rush of emotions that had surfaced from somewhere inside of her. As a result, she had endured the light touches, the tender stroking and silent exploration of her clothes without complaint. Until she had felt herself flushing, and not because of the fire burning in front of her.

When slender arms had come to a halt at her behest, she had suppressed the sound of disappointment that was forcing it's way up her throat, but just barely. Now she dared not move, although a small part of her wanted the young woman to let go of her. 'Twas a tiny small part, to be honest, but who cared about such details.

Feeling the soft texture of the bard's hair tickle her back, she realised that it was an unexpectedly nice feeling to be embraced in this manner, although she would not admit to it under torture. She decided to stay like this a little longer, ignoring the possibility of demon possession for now.

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"Morrigan..."

'Twas a soft and silent sound the bard had made. Sleepy, almost. The Witch of the Wilds slowly lifted her head, listening for other words that might come. But the young rogue stayed silent, and Morrigan's curiosity stayed unsatisfied. For once, she wished she had a nicer personality. A way to handle people without pushing them away at every turn. Slightly desperate to prove herself as human as the rest of them, she whispered a word into the silence of the camp:

"_Yes?_"

"...mh ... sleepy..."

She could've died right on the spot, as bardic hands tightened their hold slightly, sending shivers down her spine. The redhead was not supposed to have such a hold on her. Nor make her gulp in anticipation and fear. Her feelings were twisted and confusing, a dreadful part of a hidden unknown.

The rogue moved her fingers, brushing over exposed skin and rough fabric. It felt most wonderful. Maybe she would enjoy this warm feeling until dawn. She could always pretend it had never happened. The bard was drunk enough, after all. She would most likely not remember a thing.

Morrigan gently pushed back, sending the almost limp bard sprawling to the ground. When she got up, her eyes roamed over the body that was laying at her feet, taking in every inch of uncovered skin and every dimple in the soft leather armor. Her hands twitched when the thought of touching a tanned abdomen crossed her mind. Taking a deep breath, she carefully lifted the helpless bard as much as she could, pulling her towards the mattress. The drunk woman seemed even heavier than before, and for a short moment the witch asked herself how in thunder's name she had carried the bard all the way through Denerim's streets.

After letting the body slip down onto the mattress, she went back to the fire, picking up her staff. She pushed it into the earth near her shelter, as she was used to keeping it close.

Stripping off her the outer layer of her clothing, she decided that the metal-laced leather armor of the redhead would simply not do. She sent her shaky hands to work, taking off the rough metal parts, leaving the bard almost naked. The smooth skin of the woman was now covered by only short pants and a very small top, barely covering the rogue's breasts. Trying not to stare, she lifted the blanket, quickly pushing the bard into the furry sheets, knowing she could not avert her gaze much longer. Slipping in after the bard, Morrigan was surprised to be met by eager arms, which encircled her the moment she pulled the covers over her shivering body.

Lying on her back, she turned her head to look at the sleeping figure next to her. Long red lashes were skirting closed eyes, and small nasal wings moved steadily, sending warm breezes over her chest. A strange sensation took hold of her, as she watched the bard sleeping. The young woman looked more vulnerable than ever, and Morrigan was reminded of the night she had spent next to the woman, when she had been in her bear form. The same tender feeling had taken hold of her then, yet not as unwelcome as it normally was in her human form.

She knew what her problem with the young bard was, but she dared not admit it, least of all to herself. 'Twas not only attraction she felt for the rogue's slender body and perky breasts. No. 'Twas something much more frightening. Impossible, to say the least.

"Mmmh." A warm hand crept up her chest, taking hold of her neck, as fingers placed themselves under the fold of her right ear. She turned her head and placed a soft kiss on the palm of a callused hand ... jerking her head back as she realised what she had just done. Her eyes switched to the young woman, searching for any sign that she might be awake, after all. A flush crept up her cheeks, a sudden heat enveloping her body once more. Desperation filled her, as her breath became quicker and quicker, turning into a flat gasping that she could not control.

"...donmosomush..." A smile spread on the mage's face, unbidden, but she could not fight it. So unexpected and adorable were the bard's words in her ears. Sighing, she pushed her left arm under the young woman, pulling her closer when she reached the other side. Warm skin tingled underneath her fingertips, and her hand quickly developed a mind of it's own, stroking the exposed skin of Leliana's soft side. Quiet mewls and murmurs came out of the bard's mouth, sending goosebumps over the sensitive skin of Morrigan's neck.  
"Indeed," was all she managed to say before her breath was taken away by the sheer delight engulfing her senses.

"...deed..."

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Yes, I know how to spell "funny", I just wanted to stress the way it's pronounced in this chapter ;)  
On another note: I'm sorry guys, but I needed this chapter to be short. Don't kill me. Reviews, pleeeeeeeease? :)  
**

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"Morning, gorgeous." Whispered words woke her, and a pleasant feeling of belonging filled her heart. A soft hand stroked her cheek from behind, reaching over her shoulder. Leliana pushed herself back, snuggling closer to the woman she knew had to be somewhere behind her. As her back connected with two knees, she was surprised to say the least. She would not have thought that Morrigan would return at all after leaving the makeshift bed. But there she was, her kneeling figure right behind her.

"Mmmmh. Have you been up long?" The touches of the mage sent shivers through her body, and as slender fingers started playing with her lips, she sighed contendedly. She resisted the urge to take the fingers into her mouth, sucking on them in an intimate fashion. But as her head processed her thoughts, her body grew warm and wantonly desperate. Hot spikes ran through her skin, making her most intimate places throb with desire. Shifting slightly, she used her right hand to reach behind her, meeting naked thighs. Her hand explored the small knees and hairless thighs, before it stopped when it met the rough fabric of a surcoat. A chuckle escaped the mage's lips, and Leliana furrowed her brow at the unnatural sound.

She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she did. Slowly, she pulled her hand back, as a realisation hit her like a thunderbolt: Morrigan didn't wear surcoats! As she turned around, a small figure jumped off the mattress, leaving her to stare after her in a bewildered fashion.  
"Kaala!" When she lunged towards the elf, Leliana didn't care about being almost naked, all she cared about was catching the elusive Warden. Annoying little prankster!

The light-footed woman was jumping around the mage's fire, gracefully evading the bard's hands and arms that were grabbing for her.  
"You foolish vixen! I _will_ get you!" She chased the giggling Warden around the fire, stumbling over branches and rocks, but regularly coming close to catching the fleeing knife-ear.  
"Oh come on, Leliana! It was _fuuuuuuuuunnaaaaaaaaaaay_!"  
"It most certainly was _not_!" Faking a jump to the left, Leliana leaped over the fire headfirst, knocking the elf down in the process. Straddling the skinny Warden, she grabbed her by the throat, pushing her into the soft earth underneath. Kaala laughed heartily, even though it sounded a little choked. Green eyes sparkled with mischief, and the human bard pushed even harder, trying to force the joy from the elven face.  
"You actually think this is funny, Kaala? It's _not _funny!"

A single tear escaped Leliana's eyes and dropped onto a leather breastplate, sending droplets flying. The Warden's laughter died as quickly as it had come, and concern replaced the amused look on the elven face. Kaala lifted her right hand to stroke the bard's face, brushing her knuckles over flushed cheeks, petting a strong thigh with her other hand.  
"I'm sorry, Leliana." She nodded, hiding her reddening eyes from the elf.  
"I didn't mean anything by it. Okay, gorgeous?"  
"Mh-hm." Leaning down, the bard rested her head on the ground, right next to the Warden's.  
"I know, Kaala, I'm just..."  
"Yeah," elven hands slipped to her head, comforting her by fondling her hair, "yeah, I know."

Leliana breathed in the earthy smell of the soft ground, remembering the way Morrigan had smelled when she had held her in her arms.  
"I love her." It felt so good to finally have it out in the open, to admit it to someone. Even if that someone was Kaala. Cheeky, brazen, loving Kaala.  
"I know, honey, I know." The two of them stayed in that position for a while, mainly because the bard refused to get off the smaller rogue. She just enjoyed the comfort she was getting too much to let it go entirely. So she snuggled closer, forgetting her surroundings. After a time she asked the question that had been on her mind since she woke up to find Kaala sitting behind her:  
"Where is she?"  
"I think she's off to the creek, I heard her yelling at Alistair earlier."  
"Alistair? How do you..."  
"Oh. She caught him staring once. He swore it was by accident, but you know Morrigan."  
"Mh. I also know Alistair."  
"Hehehe."

When she heard a gasp, Leliana's head snapped up, looking for it's origin. What she saw left a permanent imprint in her mind, so powerful was the image she saw.

Morrigan, staff in hand, hurt plainly written on her face. Leliana's heart broke.

"No! Wait..."

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Yeah, guys, I'm sorry for the cliffhanger :/ But I needed to switch focalizers! xD  
And thank you for the nice reviews, I really, really appreciate your thoughts and opinions! And OF COURSE I try to update quickly, I always do ;)**

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"No! Wait..."

Morrigan stormed towards the exit of the camp, ignoring the unfamiliar pain that spread through her chest. Her heart pounded angrily, hurting her ribs in the effort to compensate for the immense pain she had felt when she had seen the half-dressed bard straddling and hugging the Warden. The two lithe figures had looked so intimate, lying there in the dirt of Morrigan's camp fire. The pain that made her think her heart might burst any moment now felt surreal in every way. Who was she to feel hurt at the sight of those two? She was the Witch of the Wilds, matters of the heart held no meaning for her.

"Morrigan!" The bard was running after her, her shouts alerting the whole camp to what was going on. Morrigan wanted to kill her. Delivering a slow, painful death might just make her feel better. Her hands formed into fists, lightning bolts shooting from the spaces between her fingers. It took an enormous amount of effort to keep her magic in check, and the yelling of the bard didn't make it any easier.

When she felt the running woman getting too close, she turned around, aiming her lightning towards the bard. Her magic scorched the ground in front of the young woman, and Morrigan revelled in the sudden rush of power that filled her, when said woman yelped in surprise. A lopsided grin spread over her lips while her eyes glared at the rogue, hoping to force a reaction. Of course it worked.  
"Morrigan, stop it! It's not what y..." 'Twas too much. She needed to be alone. The unfamiliar twinge in her chest sent shivers down her spine and she could feel the muscles in her calves twitching. Her whole body felt like it was filled with lightning, the bolts threatening to come out and shock everything and everyone around her.

"Morrigan! _Stop_!" She did not. Leaving the camp behind, she rushed towards the only place she had ever felt safe and secure. As soon as she heard the water purling over the rocks and stones she felt her anger subside, even although she could hear light footsteps approaching her. The bard had at least had the sense to stop yelling, but the readhead proved persistant in her pursuit of the witch. She would have to put an end to that. Focusing her mana on the ground, she created a Glyph of Repulsion, knowing the bard would not be able to see it. Smiling, she sat down on the trunk next to her stream, turning her back toward the silent footsteps.

The moment she heard the splash of a body hitting the surface of the stream, a gleeful smile appeared on her face.  
"Pffffff. What did you do _that_ for?!" The unmistakable sound of the bard spluttering water and thrashing about in the cold wet filled her ears, and her fingers played with the rough bark of the trunk. She would not make this any easier for the bard.  
"I did nothing, skinny boy. Nothing at all." 'Twas infuriating. Knowing the woman was close, having to listen to her futile attempts to apologize and explain. Worse even, to have to listen to her complain about _her_ behaviour!  
"Morrigan, listen..."  
"I'm done listening, you stupid fool!" She got up from her seat and turned around the sight of the most dishevelled creature she had ever seen. The skinny redhead was still only clad in what she had worn the day before, short linen pants and a flimsy top. Both of it was drenched, as well as the short hair that curled every time it got wet. The young woman looked adorable. Morrigan frowned at the thought. She was angry at the bard, why did her mind drift off to such nonsense?

"Morrigan..." The bard inched closer, mindful not to come too close this time. The thrust of the Glyph had obviously taken more than the air from her lungs. This time the rogue kept a safe distance between the witch and her, and Morrigan was thankful for that.  
"Be quiet, you foolish thing." She involuntarily shoved her chin forward and turned her head sideways, knowing full well that she presented the perfect portrayal of a pout. Standing here, behind the trunk, the Orlesian on the other side, she felt strangely exposed, even although she was the one fully clothed, standing safely behind a natural barrier. Yet her hands were shaking and her skin started tingling when her eyes met the blue ones of the bard.  
"Mor..."  
"I said _shut up_!" She felt herself starting to shake, and tried to force herself to calm down. 'Twas all so confusing! She did not like the bard, why would she feel such major pain when looking at her now? Why would her heart start stuttering when she imagined soft arms embracing her? And why would she imagine something like that at all?

"Morrigan. Just ... let me explain."  
"No, there's..." Her Glyph weakened, she could feel it. Soon the bard would be able to approach her, to...  
"Morr..." And there the bard went, droplets falling from her arms, which were outstretched just slightly in front of her. The lithe Orlesian frame crept closer and closer to her and she did not know what to do about it. Her fngers twitched with lightning again, and she desperatley needed release. Her fists felt like they were about to burst, and when the obnoxious bard dared stepping over the tree trunk, she let go and sent jolts of pure energy into the lifeless object. The rogue had sidestepped her predictable move elegantly, and was now coming to a stop right in front of her. Slender hands reached for her sparkling ones, and when she felt the energy surge through both of their bodies, she was lost for a moment.

"Oh." The bard stepped back a few paces, but did not let go the mage's hands.  
"I ... let go of me ... please."  
"No, wait. It's not what you think." Morrigan pulled her hands away and hid them behind her back, ignoring the longing sensation her skin sent to her heart.  
"Why would I care? You presume to know me all of a sudden?"  
"I..."  
"I thought as much."

When she made to walk away, the bard's soft hands reached for her bare arm, holding her back.  
"Stop walking away from me!" And suddenly the redhead's mouth was on her own, soft and moist, tender and forceful. Morrigan's eyes closed of their own accord and a tiny whimper escaped her surprised lips. A cold hand crept up to her face and cupped it tenderly, while the other one pulled her body flush against the clammy surface of its inhabitant. She was lost. Her mouth parted slightly, and their lips danced together like they had never done anything else. She felt the familiar power of her lightning flowing through her and entering the bard, sending impulses of energy through both their bodies and making the two of them moan in pleasure.

"Hm." Coming up for air, the rogue rested her head against her own, bardish pink lips slightly open. Shallow breaths escaped her mouth and tickled Morrigan's lower lip, forcing her to lick away the curious sensation. Her tongue probed out to comfort her lip and met the softness of the bard's mouth in doing so. She revelled in the feeling, before she pulled her tongue back and looked deeply into sky blue eyes.  
"We were just being silly, there's nothing going on betw..."  
"Shut up." And this time she leaned in, pressing her lips onto the startled mouth of the bard, who elicited an adorable squeal when the mage's hands finally grabbed her and held her close. Morrigan couldn't believe she was starting to pant, but when she did, a smooth tongue entered her mouth, forcing every logical thought to leave her mind.

"I can't ... shut up..." Sighing, Morrigan grabbed the wet hair of the rogue and brought their lips together for another fierce kiss.  
"Then I will make you."

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry for the enourmously late update guys. My muse has been a bitch. No matter what I did, it felt wrong, and it didn't come naturally. So now that I've finally managed to create something akin to what I had in mind, here you go.**

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The instant her legs bumped against the broken tree trunk, she fell backwards and hit the ground; the witch on top of her, devouring her mouth. She gasped for breath, but all she breathed in was the mage's intoxicating scent that sent her mind reeling. Her moist fingers slipped into Morrigan's hair, pulling at the bun rather roughly, sending black hair spilling over their faces.  
Leliana's legs came off the trunk when Morrigan's shimmying let the witch slip between them. Leliana's bare legs wrapped around the warm body on top of her, encircling the leather clad waist of the older woman, effectively pulling her even closer.  
"Mmmm..." The mage's moan sent shivers down her spine, and her left hand slipped down to caress the bare arm of the woman on top of her, feeling goose bumps covering the pale skin. Her busy mouth spread into a smile, eliciting light laughter. This was perfection. Trailing hands, hot breathing, groping, licking and fluttering hearts...

A branch snapped.

Leliana's head snapped into the direction of the sound, but to no avail. All she could see was Morrigan, as the mage was effectively blocking her view.  
"What was th..." A hand cupped her mouth, and Leliana was forced to stay quiet while she watched the older woman look around. She let her hands wander to the front of the witch, pushing her off of her gently. She listened to the sounds surrounding them, but other than the stream the redhead could hear nothing. Leliana's forehead creased in concentration and confusion. At this time of day she should hear birds and other animals, but there was nothing. Before the bard could point out the obvious stillness of the forest, Morrigan leapt to her feet, a carnal roar escaping her lungs while her body started growing fur and her limbs changed shape in a whirl of magic fog.

"What the..." The bard had never seen the witch transform into an animal; somehow the witch had always managed to do it in the midst of battle, when Leliana's focus was on her enemy, or in the secrecy of her part of the camp, before the party had even headed out. But this time, the young woman watched the distinctly female body of the mage transform into a furred animal, shedding clothes in the process, uncovering soft skin, which was rapidly growing grey-golden hair all over.

The wolf growled loudly, just as three Hurlocks appeared at the edge of the forest.

Leliana swallowed. Hard. She was anything but clad for battle, and every single of her weapons was still at camp, because she had run after Morrigan without thinking of anything but the witch. Her eyes went to the animal at her feet, and her hand tentatively reached out to brush the raised fur on the wolf's neck.  
A snarl and glaring yellow eyes made her pull her hand back in confusion. The wolf's chaps were pulled back in a display of anger, and Leliana immediately regretted her decision to touch the magnificent animal in her search for comfort.

Blue eyes went back to the forest edge, where the Hurlocks had been moments ago. Now they were running toward them, swinging scimitars and falchions in a wild fashion. They would reach them soon. Leliana thanked the Maker for not giving these beasts bows as well. She silently steeled herself for battle; there was no hesitation when she squared off, preparing to lunge at the Hurlock who was swinging the falchion. Her thoughts were interrupted when enormous paws landed on her chest, pushing her back towards camp. Yellow eyes bored into hers, and the scrunched up muzzle of the animal told her everything she needed to know about the current mindset of the mage. Nonetheless, she had no intention of arguing at this point, so she decided she would ignore the glare the unnatural eyes sent her way and deal with the consequences of her actions at a later time. Preparing herself to get her throat ripped open, she grabbed the wolf by the abundant fur on its chest.  
"No. NO! I'm not leaving you here!" She ignored the growling and snarling of the huge wolf, shoved the heavy paws off her chest and raced to the stream, where she grabbed one of the fist-sized rocks and ran towards the Darkspawn, the wolf hot on her heels.

She had barely run a few paces when a golden brown figure raced past her, dodged the clumsy sideward strike of a scimitar and pressed through the legs of the Hurlock, causing it to topple over, exposing its neck to the sharp fangs of the wolf. Leliana barely had time to be amazed by the grace with which the witch was moving in her new shape, as the Hurlock carrying the falchion moved towards her with intent.  
She sidestepped its first downward strike, which put her in a perfect position in front of the beast. Her rock-armed hand snapped forward and caught the Hurlock on its ugly nose, sending tainted blood through the air. The stinking creature did not seem to care much, though, as its falchion immediately changed direction for a diagonal slash towards her. Her body flexed to the side, and the sharp blade swished past her, sending shivers down her spine when she felt the movement of the sword on her wet skin. Too close.

She let herself drop to the ground and kicked the solid Hurlock in the groin, sending it flying backwards, supported by the momentum of its upward thrust. Its legs went flailing, and a strange sound escaped its throat, when it hit the ground with a thud. She lunged after it, grabbed its sword hand and pushed the blunt side of the falchion against its neck, hoping to choke the beast to death.  
But the Darkspawn refused to die. Its massive hands reached up to push against the blade, which left her with only one of two possibilities: To grab the sharp edge of the blade and push back, or to back down and attack the creature again.

She was not about to back down. Her right hand crept up to reach for the sword, when her whole body started to convulse in pain, twitching uncontrollably. Her teeth pressed together, and the veins and muscles of her neck popped out, she could feel them pulsating rapidly. The pain was starting to blur her vision, but she could still make out a figure coming closer, a fireball flickering above an outstretched hand.  
Leliana wanted to move, but her legs were still twitching, the muscles in her arms were convulsing, and her whole body felt like someone had given her a real beating.

The warmth of a fire crept closer, and at first the rogue was glad for it, but when she realised that the Hurlock next to her was aflame, her mind was on the verge of panicking.  
"Do not play dumb. I have no intention of letting you die. Not yet, anyway." Morrigan's form came into view, naked as the day she was born. Her strong hand grabbed Leliana by the foot and pulled her away from the burning carcass. Earth and grass and stones scraped over her skin, collecting under the backside of her short top. Leliana sighed. At least some part of control had returned to her.

"What did you do to me?" She shot an accusatory look in the general direction of the mage, who was busy getting back into her clothes.  
"'Twas a minor shock. You should be thankful. I saved your life."  
"I was doing fine until you interfered!"  
"Is that so? Did you not intend to have your fingers cut off on the edge of the sword?"  
"I... No..."

"I suspected as much. I was about to be proven right again. You were about to perform yet another utterly stupid feat, as you are prone to do."  
"I was not about to... I've never..."  
"Be quiet. Or I will make you stay quiet." The redhead gulped. She knew Morrigan was in no mood to argue. It was a wonder Leliana had gotten away with a simple shock so far.

When her fingers started to tingle, she moved tentatively, but every movement hurt, so she let her head drop back onto the ground and just watched her eyesight adjust again. The curvaceous body moved gracefully, while the witch covered it with fabrics. Layer upon layer of leather and rough spun wool. Leliana's eyes focused on the yet uncovered parts of the marvellous body, and a small sigh escaped her lips, which did not go unnoticed by the older woman.  
"Stop it with your lingering looks, boy." The redhead's gaze dropped, and she busied herself with plucking stray grass from her body, trying to rid herself of the grass and dirt she was covered in.

The bard sat quietly for a while, ignoring the movements of the other woman. Her eyes went to the fires burning on the grass just a few feet away. The one closest was the Hurlock she... No, Morrigan had killed.  
A flush crept up her cheeks, when she realised that she had been no help at all. Morrigan herself had killed three Darkspawn, without even putting forth an effort. The young woman gulped audibly. She should have known that the Witch of the Wilds could handle herself. She should have left when the witch had wanted her to.

"Listen, I..."  
"You do not get to talk at this time." The mage made no move to turn around, as she was busy slipping into her soft silken top, throwing the part that held it up over her neck, so she could arrange it in the front.  
"But Morr..." Her hands were still fumbling with the fabric when Leliana spoke again, and for a moment the bard wondered why the pale hands were shaking like that.  
"If you want to keep your limbs, shut your bardish trap."  
"Look, I..." In an instant, the witch was in front of her, grabbing her chin forcefully, so the bard had to look up into wildly burning eyes.

"You listen to me now, and you listen good." The hand that was holding her face trembled noticeably, but Leliana didn't dare comment on it.  
"_This_ is nothing. _You_ mean nothing to me. I did what I did to protect our camp, but if you _ever_ get in my way like that again, you will suffer the consequences, as I will not hesitate to cast a deadly spell to protect our companions!" The bard's head was pushed back hard, and she could feel bruises form where the mage's fingers had pushed into her skin.

The older woman straightened up and flattened her clothing, before she made off towards the camp.  
"You don't mean that." Leliana stood and wiped a single tear off her face, yelling after the black haired woman.  
"You don't mean that!" She let herself drop to the ground again, staring at the still burning fires.  
"I know you don't."

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: I think I'm back in the game. Or at least halfway. Thanks for the nice reviews!**

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She knew she was trudging back to camp rather inelegantly, but she could not help it. The blasted bard had managed to ruin her day twice already. First she decided to rub Morrigan's nose in the jealousy she was obviously feeling, and then she went ahead and ignored an order, just because she felt like it. She had just about had enough of the boy.

The liquid filling her eyes told a different story, however. The ignorant little boy had forced her to open up to some extent, only to make her retreat behind her walls again shortly after. And why would she not? The object of her annoyance was perfectly aware of the consequences her actions would have. But still, she chose to ignore the witch's warnings and start meddling in affairs that did not concern her. Morrigan would have been able to deal with the ugly creatures on her own, but no, the heroic mindset of the other woman had not allowed her to retreat to safety...

A particular angry stomp sent a small quake ahead of her, and the mage made a mental note to soft-pedal her anger. Surely the Warden didn't want her to let the camp collapse into an abyss of darkness.

A small sigh escaped the raven-haired woman's lips. There was a small part inside of her that was tired of being angry all the time... But as she thought about the stupidity of the redhead, the small part was being pushed down and ignored.

"Morrigan!" Preparing to send a fireball flying, the witch turned around, fire in hand. A surprised elf looked at her expectantly.  
"Hey. If you want to set something on fire, be my guest. Just as long as you don't ruin my new armor." Exhaling slowly, the Witch of the Wilds turned towards the back part of the camp, extinguishing the fire in a newly formed fist.  
"What's up?" Of course. Of course the Warden would follow her. Annoyingly curious that she was.

When she glanced to the side to meet expectant green eyes, she almost burst. Why did these women have such a hold on her and her feelings?  
"What did she do this time?"  
"She refused to go back to camp." Her voice came in a monotone, and she could not help but notice it. When she reached her shelter, she was glad for the distraction she would find here.

"Aaaaand?"  
"No and. She refused to listen to the voice of logic, as she is prone to do. She has proven this flaw on numerous occasions, usually with your assistance." Morrigan crouched down in front of her scrolls, starting to sort them by type.  
"There's something you're not telling me. What is it?" Glancing around, the mage noticed the vacated tents.  
"Where are the others?"  
"Shopping in Denerim. What are you not telling me?"  
"Why did you not go with them?" She did not know why she was asking this. For she certainly did not want an answer. Knowing the elven rogue...  
"I wanted to make sure you two were okay first." ...she would say something that made Morrigan regret asking.  
"I am well. As is the bard."

Surely the small woman had picked up on the particulars of her phrasing, but she was at a point where she did no longer care. All the Orlesian had caused her so far was pain. She did not want to subject herself to more of it.

Suddenly she was roughly being pulled up by the back of her top, and pushed to the ground rather unceremoniously.  
"You will tell me what happened, stupid bitch! I've just about had it with your antics and your constant self-pity!" Morrigan felt her eyes almost pop out of their sockets at the rogue's unusually aggravated behaviour. Her mouth dropped of its own accord as she stared at the furious woman who was standing over her.

"Wonderful. Now that I've got your attention, we can talk." She wanted to kill the elf.

Kaala sat down next to her and an apple appeared out of nowhere. Munching on it, the lithe woman looked at her expectantly. How she could stand this beast-turned-elf, Morrigan did not know. Nonetheless, she started talking.

* * *

_"Would you have reacted the way you did if it had been me with you there?"_

**...**

_"No, you wouldn't have."_

* * *

Morrigan thought about Kaala's words. The elven rogue was an exceptional woman. If anyone else had talked to her like that, she would have burned them on the spot. But instead of doing that, she had opened up. Yet again. She had opened up in the past, about her mother. And now... about the boy...

Without a doubt the elf thought her weak. She did not say so, not once, but... there was this nagging voice inside of her, telling her she was weak for baring her heart like that. Shaking her head, she physically brushed the thoughts aside.

Kaala had left for Denerim quite some time ago, so now Morrigan was alone in the camp, as even Bodhan and Sandal had left to get supplies. Supplies they would no doubt sell at double their cost, but who cared. The elf was in charge of their gold, anyway.

Morrigan had started cooking with the ingredients the Warden had given her, letting the stew cook, hanging from rack over a moderate flame. Time had passed quickly during her preparations, but the bard still had not returned. The Witch of the Wilds refused to admit that she was worried, for admitting that would make her weak. Still, she did want for the Orlesian to return, if only to burn her alive. Or something of the sort...

In the midst of her musings, she saw a lanky figure enter the camp, blue eyes focused in the direction of Morrigan's shelter. The witch smiled inadvertently. So the bard's first thought back in camp had been of her.  
When the younger woman raised a brow and turned towards the middle of the camp, where the witch was sitting, her smile faltered, however. The redhead's face was the picture of insecurity, her stance and fidgeting depicting the same. The mage slowly got up, grabbing the rack, using it to steady herself, glad that she had something to hold on to.

They just stood there, seemingly miles apart, just looking at each other.

Morrigan's eyes raked over the bruised body of the red-haired woman, knowing that some of the marks were thanks to her. She watched the bard's face redden, knowing the Orlesian was uncomfortable, but she did not want to make things easier for her. Not yet.

She knew she had reacted badly, and she knew her words had most probably cut deep wounds into the soul of the redhead, but alas, she could not forgive the ignorance with which the rogue had run off into battle. The young woman did not have any magic to protect herself, nor any weapon. Morrigan's lips quivered at the thought of losing the rogue because of her stupidity. She flexed her hands into fists, only to open them again, close them, open them... She could not stop. The human simply enraged her more than she wanted to admit.

"You are alive, I see." At the venom in her voice, the bard pulled back physically, and the witch could see the doubt in blue eyes even at this distance. For a moment she thought the redhead might flee the scene, but then something changed, and blue orbs transformed into ones of steel.  
"I am." With that, the young woman stormed off towards Morrigan's shelter. The witch stared at her bewildered, until she realised that the rogue's clothes were still lying somewhere in her sleeping area.

She glanced at the cooking stew, lowered the flame and slowly followed the stomping woman. Her yellow eyes could not help but gaze at the sinewy legs of the young bard, fascinated by the strength they portrayed.  
When she arrived at her shelter, the redhead was already halfway covered with armor, and Morrigan felt ashamed to admit that she regretted the sight of the rogue covering herself.

"What are you staring at, Morrigan? The time for gloating is over." Black eyebrows went up.  
"I did not gloat." Blue eyes glared at her, furious with pent up anger and frustration.  
"You did not... That is rich!" The young redhead approached her, while still fastening one of the straps on her armor.  
"You..." A strong hand sprung forward, jabbing her in the chest, vigorously shoving her backwards.  
"You..."

"At a loss for words, my dear?"  
"Don't mock me."  
"Should I not? I saved your life mere hours ago; it seems to me I have every right to mock you."  
"Don't tempt me, witch. You will regret it." Snorting contemptuously soon proved to be a mistake.

Morrigan found herself in much the same position as Kaala had earlier. The lithe rogue was sitting on her hip, forcing her arms down with one hand.  
"You're such an infuriating beast sometimes!" The beautiful face of the young human was mere inches from her own, and for the first time the witch looked at the bard's features. Really looked.

Blue eyes were hiding deep in their sockets, the flesh around them was reddened and swollen, and bruises were covering parts of the jaw line. Morrigan's lips twitched in a yet unfamiliar feeling of regret. An iron grip seemed to take hold of her heart, as she looked at the vulnerable yet strong woman on top of her. 'Twas a strange sensation. An unknown longing coursed through her, and she wanted nothing more than to embrace the young woman and hold her close.

She felt the need to explain. To make the anguish in the blue eyes dissipate. However, she did not know how. Her hands were trapped, she could not move, and the bard refused to look at her directly, hiding behind the falling curtain of her hair. All she had were her words. And her lips.

She chose the latter.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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_Thoughts?_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Okay. So here you go. This took me some time, cause I really had no idea where it was gonna go. It could've gone either way, but this is the way that worked for me. Tell me if it sucks.**

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Leliana stared into nothingness, trying hard not to look the struggling woman beneath her in the eyes. She could not figure this woman out. The actions of the stubborn mage were confusing and misleading, not to mention painful. She wanted her heart to stop longing for this beast, for this malicious _woman_.  
In the corner of her eye she could see the witch watching her. The intense look the older woman was sending her way made her squirm, just enough to send her mind reeling. Eyes bright as the sun threatened to look into her and expose her deepest, darkest desires.

The bard licked her lips. The smooth leather and silk of the mage's clothes rubbed along the insides of her thighs as she tried to make herself more comfortable. It didn't work. The soft up and down of the woman's breathing she could now feel below her did nothing to erase her uneasiness. Leliana felt her throat closing up, and she would not have been able to explain why. The presence of the warm body did things to her she hadn't predicted when she had hooked her leg around the mage's calves to throw her to the ground.

Now her red hair tickled the raven-haired woman's nose and cheeks, and for a moment she asked herself why she was leaning so low, why she was holding the pale hands so close to her, why her heart started fluttering the moment she felt a familiar head moving closer. At first she thought maybe the witch wanted to get a good look at her pained expression, or maybe continue staring at her until she broke down in tears because of the hurtful things the older woman had said earlier.

But when yellow eyes fixated on her, and red lips moved ever closer, Leliana flinched back.  
"What do you think you're doing?" For the first time in what felt like ages, the witch looked surprised.  
"I intended to kiss you."  
"You… _what_?" Morrigan started squirming in her grasp, trying to free her hands. The Orlesian tightened the grip her left hand had on the thin wrists of the witch, not wanting to give in.  
"'Tis not what you wanted? Did your fingers not slip underneath my clothes mere hours ago? Did you not hunger for my kiss and my touch? Did you…"

_Smack_.

Leliana stared at the angry red stain spreading rapidly over the mage's left cheek, where a quick slap had resounded just moments ago. Part of her wanted to apologize, wanted to make sure that she hadn't hurt the witch. But when she replayed the moment they had shared at the stream and heard the venom in the husky voice, her features grew firm. She did not care. The Witch of the Wilds deserved nothing less. She stared down into golden eyes, her brows furrowed, her nostrils flared.

What she saw in the wolf-like orbs surprised her. There was no anger. No arrogance. The eyes of the beautiful mage told a story of a different kind. Unexpectedly so. The redhead's tongue felt dry and sticky, and she gulped several times, just to distract herself from what she was seeing in the other woman's eyes. Regret. The mighty witch felt regret. Slender eyebrows were pulled up and a frown dominated the usually so stoic face, which was still turned to the side, away from her. Leliana felt a strange twinge in her heart as she looked upon the expressive face below her. She wanted Morrigan to say something. Anything.

The bard knew it was wrong, when she felt her hand loosen its grip and subsequently let go of the hands completely. She looked at the leather clad wrists, at the slim fingers twitching slightly to restore the blood flow. Before she could pull her hand away, it was grabbed and held in place by cold hands. A tiny gasp escaped Leliana's lips before she could control herself. The head of the witch turned around at the sound, and regretful eyes locked with her own, before they fluttered shut.

When they opened again, the Witch of the Wilds had a strange look in her eyes, something the bard would have described as vulnerable, had she written a song about it. Full lips opened, as if to say something, but nothing came out. The rogue watched the lips' hesitant movement, the forming of syllables too silent to hear. She watched the fluttering eyelids and the rapidly breathing nostrils. She watched the witch search for words for a long time. Finally, she took pity on the woman beneath her and put her right index finger over lush lips, stilling their movement.

"You're scared." It was not a question, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, Leliana knew them to be true. At first, the witch looked at her surprised, but then she suddenly turned her head to the side, hiding her face behind her fringe. A strong hand followed her movement, and, getting a hold of her chin, turned the woman back around to face the compassionate look in bardic eyes. Leliana felt a sigh building up underneath her, and she smiled when it arrived at the mage's lips. Morrigan shot her a confused look, but then opened her mouth to speak:  
"I have no experience with this."  
"With what?" Yellow eyes darted away, staring into thin air.

"This." The mage's hands held Leliana's left more firmly and led it down towards her chest, letting them all rest on top of her abdomen. Bardic eyes stared at tangled fingers for a moment, taking in the sight of freckle-covered skin mixed with pale white. When she glanced back at the witch, she saw a flicker of uncertainty, just for a moment. Her hand pressed the ones of the raven-haired beauty in what she hoped would be a reassuring way.  
"And what is _this_?" Again eyes darted away, but Leliana knew she would be getting an answer. She knew.

"I do not know. But I feel myself wanting it." Blue eyes narrowed, and a frown started framing the bard's features.  
"You said this is _nothing_."

The mage gulped audibly, which made Leliana slightly uncomfortable, knowing she was the reason for the obvious discomfort. Still, she refused to give in. She needed to know.  
"'Tis true. I said something of the sort."  
"No, you said exactly that. You said I mean nothing to you."  
"I was angered." Tears threatened to enter her eyes, but the rogue pushed them down, knowing she could not back down now, knowing she could not be weak.  
"Why?" She heard her voice break in the most disturbing way possible, and just prayed to the Maker that the pale woman wouldn't comment on it.

"You infuriate me. Your actions…" While waiting for the mage to continue, freckle-covered hands started playing with the other woman's fingers, just slightly stroking them.  
"Go on." Yellow eyes darted away, when a light flush crept over white cheeks. Then, almost too quietly to hear, the witch uttered a few words, barely able to speak coherently:  
"I might have been concerned for your wellbeing." A smile spread over Leliana's face, knowing full well that the Witch of the Wilds would under no circumstances admit this if it weren't true. Her stroking hands pressed Morrigan's fingers, thankful for her honesty. Silence settled in between them, an as of yet unknown understanding of each other creeping its way into their hearts. Leliana did not know what possessed her to move, but her fingers slowly crept upwards, away from the mage's torso, to the pale skin of a tender neck.

She saw wolf-like eyes close in what she hoped was enjoyment, when her digits roamed over porcelain skin and nails scraped over a protruding clavicle. Her breath hitched slightly, when she saw goosebumps forming on the woman's chest and arms. For the first time since throwing the mage to the ground, Leliana felt her own body consciously. Her core felt hot and in desperate need of a cooling bath, while her limbs seemed to be draining of all heat. She shifted a little, trying to get some blood back into her numb legs, but all she managed to do was to dig deeper into the confusingly tangled web of leather straps covering the witch beneath her. Her center brushed over a slightly harder part, and the sensation almost sent her tumbling over.

She realized that her armor had ridden up somewhat, allowing her center to flawlessly connect with the raw leather straps, only separated by the flimsy material of her short pants. The muscles in her legs contracted, and she knew the witch could feel them press against her. So she tried sliding away, averting the curious eyes awaiting her.

Her awkward movement did not escape the calmly breathing woman below. An eyebrow rose sharply, and the gaze that was sent her way sent shivers down her spine and a noticeable blush to her cheeks.

Whatever she was expecting the witch to say or do, she was utterly surprised, if not to say shocked, by what really happened:  
"'Twas such a foolish thing to do!" Sparkling orbs stared into hers, a perfect portrayal of anger and confusion. The slight shake of a raven-haired head softened the glare somewhat, but full lips still curled with resentment. Leliana gulped hard. Her voice was a ragged whisper, barely audible, when she forced herself to ask for an explanation.  
"What was?"

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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_Thoughts? _****


	20. Chapter 20

**Is it even possible to ask forgiveness for the lateness of this update? If it weren't for Ines Sangarinos, I think I would've tried to simply forget about the fact that this was overdue... So sorry, guys.  
**

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Morrigan felt the bard squirm on top of her. The situation had changed faster than she could have predicted it would. Baring herself like she had done just now, that had not been her intention. But her mouth and body had become traitors. She had no idea what had made her admit all these things, but when soft hands touched hers, pressed them and then wandered upwards towards her neck, most of her consciousness seemed to just fade away. As did her eyesight. The warmth emanating from the woman on top of her had sent goosebumps all over her chest, and that fact obviously hadn't escaped the younger woman. The mage heard the silent gasp that escaped the other woman's lung, and opened her eyes again, finding the innocent face above her flushed with unbridled desire when a slender hip fidgeted again, trying to find a more comfortable position.

The Witch of the Wilds felt her body grow hot in want, but she refused to let this weakness be seen. So she stayed perfectly calm, all the while watching different emotions cross the face of the young bard. She would not make this easier on the pesky boy, no she would not. Opening up had made her unexpectedly vulnerable, and she did not care for this feeling at all. So when pink cheeks flushed in an even darker shade, she said:  
"'Twas such a foolish thing to do!"  
She knew the effect this would have on the bard, and she could not help but relish in the confusion and anxiousness that clouded the redhead's voice.  
"What was?"

For a moment, Morrigan lost track of what she was thinking, when the bardic face above her became incredibly more vulnerable, and an as of yet unknown part inside of her wanted to cup flushed cheeks and reassure the young woman. What she had wanted to say, what she had planned on doing, that intent died the moment her eyes locked with sky-blue orbs, and all she managed to say was…

"This." And then her body betrayed her again, as she untangled her hands from the bard's and pushed herself into a sitting position, with the bard straddling her. The sudden change of position rattled the Orlesian, and freckled hands landed on her shoulders, trying to hold onto the only thing that would support her weight. A jolt went through Morrigan's body when sharp nails dug into her skin, while her arms went around the lithe frame in front of her, keeping it steady.

"Morrigan…"  
"Shhh, just let me…" She did not know what she was doing. Pink lips had entered her vision, and all the witch could think about was how they would feel between hers, how it would feel to nibble on them and suck on them; leaning forward, the brunette brushed her lips over the quivering mouth of the rogue, all the while trying to make sense of everything, although she knew she would not be able to do so.

This thing between them, this thing between her and the bard, between her and Leliana, it was pointless and could only lead to heartbreak and despair, but right now, in this moment, it was all she wanted. And the soft body beneath her hands did not help matters. Her pale hands had come to rest on the small of the young woman's back, where her armor exposed the tender skin of her back. She let her hands explore the impeccable texture of female skin, and let her hands linger on the hem of the lower part of the rogue's armor.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, as she let her tongue play with the lips in front of her, whose owner did nothing but gasp and close her eyes in response. It was only when she bit the Orlesian's lower lip, that the young woman started moving, nails digging deeper into Morrigan's skin, as firm hands pulled her body closer. The redhead seemed to have awoken from her stupor, as she wasted no time in letting her hands roam over the mage's body, exploring the velvety fabric of Morrigan's clothing.

When the witch felt her breasts being explored by curious digits, she smiled into the heated kiss she shared with the bard, moaning in delight as her nipple was massaged between a thumb and forefinger.

"Mmmmm…" The moment Morrigan felt the young redhead moan into her mouth, her hands stopped exploring and her tongue stilled its movements. This was not what she had wanted when she had followed the Orlesian to her part of the camp.  
"Wha…" A talking bard was not what she wanted at this time. She much preferred the gasps and moans, as words were not needed at this point anymore. This was not what she had wanted, not originally, but neither had she wanted to talk about her feelings. Now she had done both, and she would have to deal with both decisions at a later point, but right now, she cared not for emotional discussions.

With a sudden movement that made the rogue gasp, the witch turned them both around, so she came to lie on top of the young woman, slender legs on either side of her hips. Leliana's cheeks were a bright crimson by now, and her pupils had dilated in an obvious display of desire. The mage smiled. This was how she preferred things. Under her control. This situation would not escape her grasp again. She would decide how this would go, and no one else.

Pale fingers trailed down to a tanned abdomen, where Morrigan took her time to explore the ridges of tense abs, before she felt herself losing control in the most unexpected way. Strong hands had grasped her by the hair, pulling her down towards invitingly parted lips. As she realized this, she pressed her hands hard against the stomach they were resting on, trying to keep herself out of reach of those deliciously red lips. But she proved too slow, and her mouth came to a halt mere inches away from the bard's. Soft breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her lips, and the witch could not help but lick them to make the strange sensation go away.

"Kiss me." It was not a request. The brunette's eyes fluttered shut as she heard the underlying command in the Orlesian's voice. She did not want to give in, however, so she focused all her energy into pushing herself further away from the intoxicating figure beneath her.  
_"Kiss me._" A shiver ran down her spine. She did not know where the bard had found the confidence she was displaying all of a sudden, but she could not deny the way her body responded to the command. The firm grip on her hair did not subside, and when freckled hands tugged at her in obvious annoyance, the Witch of the Wilds gave in and let her lips be enveloped by a velvety soft mouth.

Part of her tried to make sense of it all, tried to resist the hold the young woman -the skinny boy- had on her, but it was all brushed aside by a primal need for closeness. A growl wound its way up her throat, and when it escaped, Morrigan felt lost. She had never let anyone make her lose control, yet this creature beneath her had managed to do what no man had done before. The Orlesian had torn down her walls and entered her stronghold equipped with nothing more than a few words and a vulnerable nature.

And suddenly all conscious thought left her mind, as a tongue entered her mouth and groping hands found her backside. A moan escaped her mouth, yet again unbidden and unwanted, but it was there, and the younger woman seemed to enjoy it, as she squeezed Morrigan's backside more firmly through the leathers she was wearing. The witch felt the rough material of the rogue's armor press into her breasts, as the redhead pulled her more firmly against her, but instead of trying to ignore the pain, the mage took advantage of it and let it wash over her, which forced her nipples into tight knobs of flesh that scraped over hard armor, protected only by a thin layer of fabric. Another growl escaped her, feral and full of want. Her jaw clenched and she bit into the lower lip of the bard with enough force to draw blood.

A yelp escaped the young woman, but her hold on the witch did not wane. If anything, the lean hands in her leathers gripped her even tighter. So the bard did not mind a little bit of pain. 'Twas good to know. The brunette's hands went to Leliana's sides, trying to open the leather straps holding her armor in place. When the straps did not move, however, the witch made quick work of them with a magically enforced pulling move, which ripped half of the straps into pieces.

"Morr…" The older woman silenced the Orlesian's protests with another fierce kiss, while her hands wasted no time in getting under the bothering front armor. Metal and leather were pushed aside to expose heated flesh and small breasts covered by a flimsy top. A violent rip got rid of that, as well, and the moment Morrigan could feel nipples straining against her palms, she broke their kiss and slid down the bard's body, until her cheek brushed over an aching nub.

A whimper escaped the archer's lungs, when full red lips enveloped the small nub and sucked on it roughly. The Witch of the Wilds enjoyed the way the tanned body beneath her squirmed and shivered, and when a particularly arousing moan made its way to the surface, she slipped her hand between the skinny woman's quivering thighs. She expected them to part for her willingly, but when strong limbs nearly crushed her hand between them, she halted her movement, albeit unwillingly.

"Is this not what you wa…"  
"_Shhhh!_"

Yellow eyes formed into slits, as the redhead shoved her face away from inviting breasts. This day did not go according to plan at all. Her annoyance manifested quicker than she would have thought.

"What is it this time, you chicken-hearted beast?"  
"_Shhhh, don't you hear_?"  
"Hear what, you stupi…" When a hand clasped over her mouth, the witch heard. She heard all too clearly. And all of a sudden she was torn between ducking deeper, to hide in the shade of her shelter or getting up, as fast as she only could. The girl beneath her -for in this moment she seemed to be a girl all over again- shifted slightly, her eyes wide in fear. 'Twas this sight that made the decision an easy one…

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


End file.
